


Take Me As I Am

by Sunfish314



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Faberry, Faberry epic, Rachel's dads are original characters, Sweetness abounds, a smattering of angst because they're teenagers but mostly lots of sweetness, like watching the show if it all revolved around Quinn and Rachel, pretty much the whole glee club is there but mainly in the background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 59,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfish314/pseuds/Sunfish314
Summary: REPOSTED FROM FANFICTION.NET. The incredibly true adventures of Quinn and Rachel, starting from Sectionals Season 1. It's kinda just like watching the show, if Faberry were the central couple and everything revolved around them! (Also lots of original Faberry material in between). Brittana & Klaine co-star in supporting roles, plus Rachel's dads.NOTE ON REPOST: this story was written in real-time with the show. So, there might be times when you think I'm foreshadowing future events (like in S2, I hint at Quinn going through a pink pink phase in the future; in early S3 she has a nightmare about a car crash...) but those things are NOT actual foreshadowing, because they really hadn't happened yet on the show. Either I'm psychic, or it's proof that TV writers really do read fanfic for their inspiration, lol. Plus, Rachel's dads are my own invention since I started writing them in S1. Also, I'm removing the few scenes with explicit sexytimes so I can post this with a Teen rating, because when I posted it unrated I was getting like no hits at all, which is ridic. This was my favorite and most followed story of all time so I hope you'll enjoy it!





	1. Endings and Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hola Faberrians! Since this is a repost, I should start by letting you know exactly where we're picking up, which is right at the end of Sectionals S1. So Finn just found out the baby isn't his, and Quinn is briefly living out of her car until Rachel swoops in on her white horse and makes everything better. The early chapters are a bit on the shorter side; but as it goes on they get longer and longer! Buckle up and enjoy the ride kiddies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I spent 3 years writing this fic and there are a heck of a lot of chapters, I am going to keep posting them all as fast as I can! Have fun reading :)

Everyone was buzzed on the bus ride home from Sectionals, flushed with their first win and the evidence: a giant trophy sitting propped on the seat behind the driver, that went all the way to the ceiling. Finn’s return to the Glee club, and his last-minute heroics that everyone knew made them win, was cranking up the manically good mood on the bus, and they sang and laughed and bounced up and down on their seats all the way home.

All except Quinn. She sat alone in a back corner, head leaning against the window. Hands resting over her baby bump, rubbing lightly, as if trying to reassure her unborn child that it was all gonna be okay. She’d find a place to live, some way to take care of herself—take care of them both—until the little angel curled up inside her was born, and finally got the chance to have a real family, one who could promise her things that Quinn knew she never could. She didn’t even realize she was crying until a whisper-soft touch stroked away the tears streaming down her cheek.

“What’s the matter?” Rachel asked quietly, more quietly than Quinn had ever heard her speak before. She didn’t understand why the dark-haired girl continued to be so nice to her, every chance she got, when the ex-cheerleader had never given her anything but grief. Every chance she got. Right now, though, the impulse to reply with some cruel and biting retort died in her throat. She was too full of sadness already; she couldn’t stand to cause any more, and she didn’t want to see that pained expression of surprise in Rachel’s eyes that she was so good at producing with her malicious insults. But she didn’t want Rachel’s pity, either. 

“Nothing. It’s just hormones,” Quinn replied quietly, wiping the tears from her face far more roughly than Rachel had. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Quinn. You can’t help it,” Rachel replied, keeping her voice low so no one else heard over the raucous singing. Then the dark-haired girl reached out, and hesitantly wrapped an arm around the crying girl, squeezing her shoulder lightly. To her great surprise, Quinn dropped her head onto Rachel’s shoulder, her loose blonde hair spilling over and grazing against Rachel’s collarbone. The dark-haired girl tensed nervously for a moment, until she felt Quinn starting to shake with silent sobs, and the awkwardness of the strange moment was broken. Rachel tightened her grip, squeezing Quinn a little closer against her and turning to kiss the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered again, turning her face into Rachel’s shoulder so her tears soaked into the other girl’s shirt. She wasn’t just talking about this moment, but everything. 

“It’s okay, Quinn,” Rachel murmured back. There was such understanding in her voice, the blonde girl wondered if it was possible that she was talking about everything, too.

The quiet, peaceful moment between the two girls was broken when Mercedes glanced back and raised an eyebrow at their intimate position in the back of the bus, and Quinn’s head shot up from Rachel’s shoulder, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Can you go now?” She asked bluntly, though not unkindly. “I think I just need to be alone.” Rachel nodded, looking sad now, too, though for once Quinn didn’t think she’d said anything to cause it. It was more like the dark-haired girl was absorbing some of Quinn’s heavy heart, trying to carry it for her. It was an insane thought, one that Quinn was quickly able to dismiss once she was sitting alone again. No one else spoke to her the rest of the ride home, and when they all got off the bus and ran to meet their families, no one seemed to notice the blonde girl walking off alone toward her car, parked in the far corner of the lot, and not turning on the engine once she got in.

She had never intended to let this happen, living out of her car; but then again, she had never intended to let any of this happen. She knew that Brittany or Santana would probably take her in if she asked; but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d already been kicked out of her own home, and then her ex-boyfriend’s when he found out the baby wasn’t really his. She couldn’t bear to be anywhere else she wasn’t wanted. And it wasn’t as if they’d offered, or even asked if she was alright. Like Rachel did, she thought fleetingly, before quickly shoving the thought to the back of her brain.

She still didn’t have any answers for how she was going to get through this; but she knew she had to figure it out on her own. She certainly wasn’t going to live in her car forever, but for now, she was managing. It was what it was. She would get through it. She would do whatever she had to do for the innocent little life that was, for now, in her care alone.

“Quinn?” Though the knock on her car window was very soft, and the voice calling her name very hesitant, the blonde girl gasped and jumped up from her reclining position against the seat, as if someone had just shouted right in her ear. 

“Jesus, Rachel!” She panted, a flash of fury passing briefly through her eyes before being replaced by something warm and fragile, and hard to name. The dark eyes locked on her own seemed to soften at the same moment, and Quinn wondered if the other girl was realizing the same thing she just had—that for the first time, she’d called the dark-haired girl by her actual name. Not “man-hands,” not “RuPaul,” not even “Berry,” like they were in the army or something. Just Rachel. Where had that come from?

“Sorry I scared you,” the shorter girl continued, maintaining the same gentle voice she’d used on the bus. “I just—can I talk to you for a sec?” Quinn blinked bemusedly, then with a sigh, she unlocked her passenger side door and let the little diva into her car.

“What is it?” She asked wearily.

“I…well, I don’t really know how to ask this…” Rachel was looking at her so oddly, biting her lower lip as she tried to say whatever it was she was trying to say, though Quinn was suddenly preoccupied with just how soft and full that lip was. How had she never noticed before? Again, the blonde girl grabbed the thought and pushed it forcefully into the back of her mind, along with the fluttery feeling churning around in her stomach. “Quinn—are you sleeping in your car?”

“What do you care? You got what you wanted.” The ex-cheerleader replied coldly, some of the old venom sneaking back into her voice as her defensive instincts took over. She didn’t want to be pitied by anyone, least off all a loser like Rachel fucking Berry. She was a joke. She was nothing. Why was she still looking at Quinn like that, with those big Bambi eyes?

“No I didn’t,” Rachel said slowly, finally looking down at her hands as Quinn’s sharp hazel gaze bored into her own. “I mean I—thought I did, but…I never wanted this, Quinn. I never wanted you to have nowhere to live.”

“Well congrats, you just racked up some bonus points,” Quinn retorted sarcastically, unable to stop the familiar cruelty slipping into her voice when she felt so vulnerable. 

“Come stay at my place,” Rachel blurted out, still staring down at her hands so she didn’t see Quinn’s frozen, shocked expression. She finally looked up when a full minute passed without the blonde girl saying anything. The utterly confused expression on the other girl’s face made Rachel break out of her own awkwardness, and she reached out bravely for the blonde hand, squeezing her fingers. “Please, Quinn. I already asked my dads if it was okay. We want you to come stay with us, for as long as you need.” 

“Are you high?!” Quinn snapped, jerking her hand back from the shorter girl’s warm grip, and instantly regretting it. “What on earth would make you think I’d want to live with you, huh Berry?” Rachel looked right into Quinn’s eyes, both of them floundering between hurt and hope. 

“I…just thought it would be better than sleeping in the back seat of a subcompact,” the dark-haired girl said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked down at her hands again. “You can’t keep this up much longer; you must know that. It’s getting colder every night. You’re gonna make yourself sick…it isn’t good for the baby.” It was a low blow, but it got Quinn’s attention. No matter how confused she might be about, well, everything in her life right now, here was one thing she couldn’t ignore: what was best for her baby. And clearly, right now, Rachel’s offer was it.

“Fine. I mean…thank you.” Quinn smiled tentatively, looking embarrassed again.

“You’re welcome,” Rachel smiled back broadly, causing the fluttery feeling in Quinn’s stomach to erupt again. What the hell? “Well c’mon, my dads are waiting for us.” Quinn nodded and started the car, knowing for the first time in over a week that she actually had someplace to go.

……………………………………………………

The Berry house wasn’t quite as nice as Quinn’s parents’, if you were judging purely based on money; but it had a comfortable, lived-in feeling that the Fabray house had always lacked, and it smelled like fresh-baked cookies. Quinn instantly felt at home, and when Rachel’s two dads welcomed her in, she knew they meant it, though she still couldn’t fathom why. Rachel showed her to the guest room (though she referred to it as “your room” when she showed the blonde girl in) and then immediately left her alone to settle in, though Quinn found herself wishing, for whatever reason, that the other girl would stay. She unpacked quickly—she didn’t have much, as her parents had given her so little time to pack when they’d kicked her out—and then curled up on the bed, which was very comfortable, and cried quietly until her head pounded and her nose ran. She probably would’ve cried herself to sleep eventually, if not for the soft knock on the door.

“Can I come in?” Rachel’s voice asked hesitantly from the other side.

“It’s your house,” Quinn replied dully.

“It’s your room,” Rachel countered, making no move to open the door. 

“Fine, come in,” Quinn sighed wearily. She didn’t really want Rachel to see her like this, red-eyed and pathetic; but she supposed that it couldn’t be helped anymore. And as soon as the dark-haired girl came into view, smiling gently and bearing a tray of milk and cookies, Quinn felt the sadness inside her starting to lose its grip. None of this made any sense, but she was too exhausted to keep pushing the other girl’s kindness away. Not when she was standing there with honest-to-God milk and cookies, and smiling at her like things had always been this way.

“I thought you might like a little bedtime snack,” Rachel offered, sitting hesitantly on the end of Quinn’s bed and putting the tray down on the blanket between them. “They’re fresh from the oven. My dad Jacob loves to bake.” 

“Thadks,” Quinn sniffled, blushing a little when she realized how stuffy her voice sounded from crying. Rachel reached over and passed her a tissue from the bedside table without saying anything. Quinn took it and quickly wiped her eyes and blew her nose, turning away from the other girl.

“You’re the only person I know who gets embarrassed about crying,” Rachel said suddenly, apparently out of nowhere. “You really shouldn’t be. It’s perfectly natural to let your feelings out…and God knows, my dads are plenty used to it.”

“I bet,” Quinn found herself replying with a small smile, thinking of the dark-haired girl’s regular attacks of diva-drama in the choir room that usually ended with very loud, very un-embarrassed tears. Then her head gave a nasty throb, and she closed her stinging eyes with a soft groan.

“Quinn? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a headache.” With her eyes still closed, Quinn was completely unprepared for the gentle touch of Rachel’s warm fingers against her temples. She should’ve jumped back, or given the other girl a nasty retort; but instead she found herself leaning into Rachel’s soft touch, which was magically relieving the pressure pounding against her skull.

“Does that feel good?” Rachel asked hesitantly, sounding suddenly nervous and shy, though she’d been so forward a moment ago. Quinn couldn’t believe she even had to ask.

“Yeah, really good,” she sighed quietly, eyes still closed. “Don’t stop.” Rachel obeyed, and for a few minutes they sat in silence, as Quinn felt the tension slowly draining out of her heavy head. Eventually, Rachel’s warm fingers withdrew, and Quinn opened her eyes sleepily, a small smile playing across her lips.

“Oh…” Rachel blushed a little, smiling back shyly. “I thought you fell asleep.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me,” Quinn replied, her relaxed state breaking down her usual barriers between thought and speech. Rachel blinked, and her smile widened into something more at ease, more confident.

“You deserve to have someone be nice to you right now,” she shrugged, like it was obvious. “You’re going through something huge and scary…and you’re turning into this whole new person. I mean…I like who you’re turning into.” Quinn blinked and rubbed her eyes. Did Rachel Berry just tell her she liked her? Why did that make her heart thump and her stomach squirm? At a loss for words, Quinn sat up against the pillows and took a cookie from the tray between them, quickly shoving it into her mouth. 

“These are really good,” she mumbled, already reaching for another. 

“Yeah, they’re my favorite,” Rachel smiled, taking one herself. “Don’t forget to drink your milk, though. Calcium is good for the baby.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Quinn replied sarcastically, but the small smirk playing across her lips betrayed her happiness at the other girl’s concern for her wellbeing. That, and the fact that she actually did as Rachel said, picking up the glass and taking a long drink. “Happy?” She asked when she’d finished, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” Quinn felt the butterflies swirling around in her stomach again as they smiled at each other. She had absolutely no idea how this had happened; but she knew she wasn’t lying. For the first time in months, Quinn Fabray was happy.


	2. A Bad Night and a Good Morning

Quinn slept badly that first night in the Berry house, despite the very comfortable bed (certainly an improvement over the pull-out couch in Finn’s basement). It was the nightmare that woke her, the same one she’d been having off and on for the last few weeks since her parents kicked her out. She dreamed she was holding her baby, who looked up at her with the most innocent, adoring eyes; she was happy, they were both happy just to be together, and every time, Quinn would always get the same incredible, overpowering feelings of love and devotion. 

Then her father would appear, his face a stone-cold mask, and wrench the baby from her arms. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t hold on, and she woke sobbing every time, the sound of her helpless daughter’s wails stabbing her heart, the last image she saw in her mind that of her father taking her baby away from her. It hadn’t occurred to her till now that she might wake someone up with her heartbroken sobs; when she was awake, she always cried quietly, holding in everything she could, always ashamed to let the world see even a sliver of weakness. That was how her parents had taught her to be. And she hadn’t realized, at Finn’s, how much louder she cried when she was asleep and having bad dreams; since she was in the basement, no one could hear her, anyway. And she certainly hadn’t bothered anyone in her car.

But when she woke sobbing in the darkness that first night at Rachel’s, she knew right away that something was different. Someone was curled up beside her, stroking her hair and whispering loving assurances in her ear. For a moment, she had absolutely no idea where she was; then, before she remembered anything, it was Rachel’s touch that brought it all back. Too sleepy to be embarrassed, she rolled over and pressed her face into the other girl’s dark hair, sobbing uncontrollably. Rachel held her so close, and whispered so sweetly, that Quinn was half-convinced she was still dreaming; but she didn’t care. She hadn’t felt this safe, or this protected, in so long. She couldn’t let go.

Eventually, her tears eased, and her breathing returned to normal; and Rachel’s hands stopped moving through her hair. Quinn had almost fallen back to sleep when she felt the other girl shifting, starting to get up, presumably to return to her own bed.

“Stay,” she whispered hoarsely, the first word she’d spoken. Her fingers curled desperately into the material of the other girl’s nightshirt, something she’d never, ever have done by the light of day. 

“Okay,” Rachel murmured back, settling back into the spot beside Quinn on the mattress. Instead of reaching out to stroke her hair again, Rachel’s arm went around Quinn’s waist, resting her warm hand over the small swell of Quinn’s baby bump. It should’ve felt strange and awkward and just plain wrong; but it didn’t. It made Quinn’s nervous heartbeat ease, and she pressed her own hand over Rachel’s to show her she liked it there. Emboldened by the wordless encouragement, the dark-haired girl began gently rubbing tiny circles over Quinn’s stomach with her thumb, which produced more positive reinforcement from the blonde girl in the form of a drowsy sigh of contentment. She almost didn’t want to fall back to sleep, now, she felt so good; but exhaustion soon took over, and within moments, Quinn was fast asleep.

In the morning, Quinn woke to find herself alone in her bed. For a moment she was disappointed; but in the next moment she was relieved, as confusion and embarrassment flooded through her at the memory of how vulnerable and needy and downright pathetic she’d been in the night. She had absolutely no idea how to process her vague, dreamlike memories of the intimate moments she’d spent with the dark-haired girl, and she was glad now that Rachel wasn’t here to see her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. If she were, Quinn had no doubt she’d say something cruel and cutting to displace her own feelings of shame onto the poor girl who had only tried to soothe her; and she knew now that she didn’t want to do that anymore. 

She showered and dressed quickly, grateful that her room came with its own small but private bathroom, so she wouldn’t have to deal with walking past Rachel going to or from the shower in their towels. She tried not to think about why that should bug her, when she’d been changing and showering with the entire cheerleading team for years. Eager to push the uncomfortable thoughts aside, she dressed quickly and found that she’d beaten Rachel to the kitchen, leaving her alone with Jacob—who, Quinn remembered, was the dad who’d baked the cookies she’d scarfed down the night before.

“Well my goodness, we’re an early riser,” he said when he saw her standing nervously in the entryway. “Is this really your normal breakfast time, or are you still on your polite-houseguest behavior? Which I assure you isn’t necessary, by the way.”

“Oh…um…sorry,” Quinn said quietly, taking a step back as if to retreat to her room. “I didn’t mean to intrude”—

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetie, come sit. Rachel’s other dad is out by 6am most mornings to pick up the early shift at the hospital, so I’m used to being up early. And it will be a nice change of pace to have someone keep me company until her highness makes her appearance.” He smiled broadly when he spoke of his daughter, and it gave Quinn a small pang for some reason. Her father used to smile at her like that, too…but then he threw her away, like a rotten apple. Some hint of her sadness must have shown on her face, because Jacob quickly switched gears. “So, what would you like for breakfast, kiddo? We’ve got eggs and toast, frozen waffles, oatmeal…”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Quinn said quickly, jumping in before he’d finished his recitation. Finn’s mom certainly hadn’t; she always left for work before they got up, anyway, and at her own house she’d been making her own breakfast for years.

“Are you going for the low-maintenance teenager award here, or what?” Jacob joked, winking at her. “I like to cook, Quinn. Don’t take that away from me, okay? It could send me into a chasm of existential despair.” Quinn laughed, reminded vividly of Rachel’s propensity toward dramatics and big words—clearly inherited from the man in front of her, though Rachel’s version of it was much more immediate and intense (and adolescent). She couldn’t help being charmed a little.

“Well I don’t want to be responsible for an existential crisis this early in the morning,” she bantered back, finally taking a seat at the table. “How about some scrambled eggs?”

She’d already finished her breakfast, and done the dishes (Jacob tried to refuse this, too, but Quinn insisted) by the time Rachel came downstairs, dressed in her usual extremely-short skirt, argyle kneesocks, and cropped plaid sweater. She looked so normal (for Rachel, at least) that for a moment Quinn felt absolutely certain that she’d dreamed the intimate exchange in her bed the night before; then their eyes met, and they both blushed crimson. Nope, Quinn definitely hadn’t imagined that.

“Good morning,” she said shyly, smiling at the dark-haired girl. 

“Morning,” Rachel replied, returning the shy smile with interest. 

“Rachel, honey, if all your friends are as sweet and lovely as Miss Quinn here, you can start a foster home for teens in the back yard for all Daddy and I care.” 

“Dad,” Rachel snorted, rolling her eyes in the typical teen-to-parent way. Quinn, for her part, was still trying to absorb the compliment Jacob had just given her. Did her really call her sweet and lovely? Clearly, he knew nothing of the cruelties she’d been visiting on his only daughter for years. Suddenly, Quinn was more ashamed of the way she’d acted as head cheerleader than ever before, and her eyes welled up with tears. She quickly turned back to the sink, determined not to start the day with more tears, and especially not in front of Rachel. Thankfully, father and daughter fell into their own regular morning routines, giving the confused, hormonal pregnant girl the chance to gather herself and push the tears away, for now. 

“So…you wanna ride to school with me?” Quinn asked a little awkwardly when the clock struck 7:45. “It seems silly for us to take two cars when we’re going to the same place.”

“Sure…if you don’t mind,” Rachel nodded hesitantly. 

“Why would I mind?” Quinn asked, before the obvious answer hit her: Rachel wasn’t sure she’d want anyone to know about their new living arrangement, and she was giving Quinn the option of keeping it a secret, if that was what she wanted. Unable to express out loud how much she didn’t want that, Quinn just rolled her eyes at Rachel’s hesitant expression, and reached for her hand. 

“Bye Dad!” Rachel yelled over her shoulder, beaming as her fingers laced with Quinn’s. “We’ll see you later!”

As soon as they were in the car, the awkwardness they’d both felt upon entering the kitchen returned, making them both silent as Quinn turned on the engine and backed out of the driveway. They both gave each other nervous sideways glances, trying to act casual and pretend they weren’t looking; until finally, Quinn broke the silence.

“Listen…I’m sorry about last night.” She kept her eyes on the road as she spoke, grateful for the excuse not to look into the other girl’s deep brown eyes when she brought up the subject of their late-night-whatever-it-was. 

“Why? I’m not,” Rachel said simply. That got Quinn’s attention, and she took her eyes off the road momentarily to turn and give the other girl a you-must-be-joking look. “I, I mean, I’m not glad you had nightmares of course, but you shouldn’t be sorry. I’m not sorry for being there for you, I mean. Unless you’d rather just be alone next time, if there is a next time, which of course would be fine too if”—

“Rachel!” Quinn exclaimed, cutting the dark-haired girl off mid-babble. When she looked back across the seat, Rachel’s nervous expression made her laugh, a real, easy, un-forced laugh, and soon Rachel was laughing, too, and all the tension in the car flew right out the window. When their giggles had finally petered out, Quinn said softly, “I don’t want to be alone next time.”

“Good, then we agree,” Rachel nodded, and Quinn could hear the note of happiness in her voice. “So, what about, you know…the rest? I mean, people are going to talk when they see me getting out of your car. What do you want me to say?”

“Rachel, it’s not up to me to tell you what to say. You’ve been nicer to me than anyone else in the world in the last 24 hours. You can say whatever you want, okay?”

“Okay…” Rachel said slowly, and Quinn could feel the other girl’s intense gaze focused on her as she drove, making the butterflies in her stomach kick up again. She wished she hadn’t eaten so much at breakfast. “So, if I told people that we’re friends now…that would be okay?” The vulnerability in Rachel’s usually assertive voice made Quinn feel oddly more sure of herself; it was as if they were on more equal footing now, after Quinn’s nightmares and tears, when Rachel had been the calm, reassuring one. 

“Well it’s the truth, so of course it’s okay,” she shrugged, making it seem like it was no big deal to her. She chanced a glance across the seat, to find a hundred-watt Rachel Berry smile being aimed at her. Quinn immediately blushed and looked back at the road. Thankfully, they were almost at school. Friends, she told herself firmly, that was all they were. That was what Rachel had said. They were friends who lived in the same house, and occasionally cuddled each other at night. Yup…just friends.

When they got out of the car, they both had to shove their hands in their pockets to resist the impulse to reach for each other’s hand, both assuming the other would reject such a gesture. But the shy smile they shared before parting for their separate homerooms was almost as noticeable to anyone who was paying attention; and more than a few people were.


	3. We're Just Friends

 

The change happened so quickly, there was actually a tiny lag in the rumor mill; and for a few days, only the Glee kids seemed to have noticed the fact that the pregnant ex-head-cheerleader and the hot-tempered diva queen were suddenly invading each other’s personal space in a whole new way. When Quinn got in Rachel’s face now, it wasn’t to deliver some malicious insult to the shorter girl, but to whisper something in her ear that made them both giggle. When Rachel caught Quinn’s eye across the stage, it wasn’t to glare at her for missing her mark, but to share a shy smile. The rest of the school cottoned on soon enough though, on the day that Rachel got her very last slushie facial.

She was walking down the hall to her locker, and Quinn, coming from the other direction, had just caught sight of her. Before she had a chance to wave, or smile, or do anything to catch the dark-haired starlet’s attention, Dave Karovsky came around a corner and threw a cherry slushie in Rachel’s face. Right in front of Quinn. And the hormonal blonde girl had a very different reaction than when she’d been hit herself, that one awful time—then, she’d felt totally humiliated, and it had taken every ounce of her willpower not to burst into tears in front of the whole school. Now, however, she was pissed. She was pregnant-girl-pissed. She walked right up behind the snickering hockey thug and tapped him on the shoulder to make him turn around. When he did, she hauled off and kneed him in the groin as hard as she could.

The massive hockey player had squawked like a big, dumb turkey, and when he doubled over, Quinn grabbed his earlobe, which was conveniently at her eye level now.

“Pick. On. Someone. Your. Own. Size,” she snarled through gritted teeth. When she released him, he staggered back, glaring furiously like he wanted to hit her. Quinn just stood there and crossed her arms expectantly, silently daring him to hit a pregnant girl. Rachel just watched open-mouthed, red slushie dripping from the ends of her hair. And behind her, the rest of the school saw Quinn turn her back on the retreating hockey stud, and take Rachel’s cherry-coated fingers in her own to lead her into the girls’ bathroom. 

No one had dared throw a slushie at Rachel since then, of course; they were all too scared of invoking the pregnant girl’s fury. But it didn’t stop the immediate explosion of the Quinn-Fabray-and-Rachel-Berry-are-gay-for-each-other rumor mill on all available high school networks. Without ever officially discussing it, the Glee kids all seemed agreed to defend their own, telling everyone who voiced this opinion that they were full of crap; though they probably believed it more than the rest of the school, seeing so much more of the evidence of the unlikely new relationship between the two girls. 

They saw the change in their rehearsals the day that, when Rachel stormed out in a tantrum, Quinn went after her and brought her back in less than five minutes, ready to compromise on whatever artistic choice had caused her to storm out in the first place. Soon after, they saw Rachel running after Quinn when the blonde girl would suddenly drop everything and race for the bathroom to throw up. No one had ever followed Quinn out of rehearsal before, all too scared that she’d just yell at them to get lost and leave her alone. But it was obvious that she wasn’t telling Rachel to get lost, as they’d always re-appear together, usually with their hands linked behind their backs, like they thought no one would notice that way.

In truth, both girls were so caught up in the delicate new feelings they were sharing, they couldn’t have talked about it openly even if they’d wanted to. By day, they carefully explored their new friendship, noticing for the first time that they were in most of the same honors classes. They studied together, ate together, and went home together, where they quickly fell into a comfortable routine with Rachel’s dads, who couldn’t have been more charmed by the new addition to their household. 

And at night, they continued to follow the pattern they’d established on Quinn’s first night in the Berry house. Sometimes Quinn had nightmares, and woke crying in Rachel’s arms; but other times, it was Quinn who slipped across the hall to Rachel’s bed, where she was always received with open arms. Though both of them knew that this wasn’t necessarily normal BFF behavior, they still insisted their relationship was purely platonic, and would only roll their eyes when their separate friends asked them, over and over, whether they’d gotten into each other’s pants yet. 

It was a normal evening, like any other, when their dismissive eye-rolling finally stopped. Rachel was rehearsing her solo from “Somebody to Love” in her room, singing into a hairbrush and dancing around for Quinn, who lay giggling across Rachel’s bed, when suddenly the blonde girl gasped and went rigid. Rachel immediately dropped her hairbrush and jumped up on the bed beside her friend, her hands hovering anxiously over the pregnant girl’s body as if worried she might break her.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Is it the baby? Should I call Daddy? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Quinn shook her head, her eyes lighting up with a glow that Rachel could only describe as heavenly when she grabbed the dark-haired girl’s hand, and pulled it to her stomach. It only took a moment for Rachel to realize she was feeling Quinn’s baby’s first kicks.

“Oh, Quinn…” Rachel whispered, beaming, as they smiled at each other with their eyes full of tears. They stayed frozen like that, both hoping the baby would kick again. A full minute went by, but nothing happened.

“Sing some more, Rach,” Quinn urged, her eyes alight. Rachel smiled shyly, and continued singing her solo. Immediately, the baby began to kick again, hard. Quinn laughed, and Rachel kept singing, both of them feeling a slew of enthusiastic kicks from the little Fabray.

“Wow,” Rachel murmured when she’d finished the song, utterly awe-struck at the connection she’d felt to Quinn and her baby in the last few minutes. 

“She likes your voice,” Quinn beamed, still holding Rachel’s hand against her stomach with both of her own.

“Either that, or she’s just really into Queen,” Rachel joked, making Quinn giggle and shake her head. Maybe it was the pregnancy glow around Quinn at that moment, awed with her baby’s first communication to the outside world; maybe it was the reddish-orange glow of the sunset through the window, lighting up the blonde girl’s hair like a halo. Maybe it was just the overflow of feelings between the two of them, that they couldn’t push to the back of their minds anymore, because the back of their minds were full to exploding. Whatever the reason, Rachel took her free hand—the one that wasn’t currently pinned to Quinn’s stomach—and curled it into the other girl’s hair, bringing their lips together in an impulsive, tender kiss. The pregnant girl stiffened for half a second, then returned the kiss enthusiastically, both of them happily exploring each other’s lips, teeth and tongues as the baby continued to kick gleefully against their hands still pressed to Quinn’s stomach. 

Finally, the two girls broke apart, both panting shallowly with their eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together. It was Quinn who broke the silence first.

“I think…I love you, Rachel.”

“You think?” Rachel replied, half-teasing, her full lips curling into a smirk. 

“Well, I know how fussy you are about well-thought-out decisions. I wouldn’t want to mess up your whole logic-model process,” Quinn teased back, taking one hand off her stomach to wind into Rachel’s hair. The shorter girl beamed, leaning up to press another kiss to Quinn’s lips. 

“Yeah, that is true…I guess we need to make really, really sure we both know what we’re talking about before we make any hasty decisions.”

“Mm-hmm,” Quinn agreed through another kiss, already impatient for more of the taste of Rachel’s soft lips. “Let’s make sure…yeah, really sure.” Quinn pushed Rachel down and pinned her against the bed as their kiss deepened; and they both felt the baby kicking away as their stomachs pressed together.


	4. Distracted

“Girls! Dinner!” The voice floating up the stairs made Quinn and Rachel both freeze. It wasn’t exactly as if they were surprised—they knew that Rachel’s Dads were home, they knew it was almost dinner time—but once they started kissing, the rest of the world may as well have been at the other end of an intergalactic vortex. 

“I guess we got kinda distracted,” Rachel smiled sheepishly, biting her lip in an oh-well-who-cares kind of way that would normally have charmed the pants right off Quinn. At the moment, however, the blonde girl was turning white and starting to hyperventilate. “Quinn? Are you okay, baby?”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Quinn whispered, burying her face in Rachel’s hair as she began to tremble violently. “They’re gonna kill me Rach, they’re gonna throw me out on my ass…”

“What?” Rachel laughed, but when she realized how deadly serious and utterly freaked out Quinn actually was, she immediately bit back her giggles. “Sweetie, no, it’s gonna be fine. These are my parents we’re talking about, not yours, okay? They adore you. Shh, don’t cry…”

“As your friend, maybe,” Quinn choked, her voice muffled by her tears, and because she was pressing her face into Rachel’s hair so hard. “But not as your g-girlfriend…”

“My what?” Rachel squeaked, so surprised that her hands, which had been rubbing Quinn’s back, froze in mid-motion. Quinn raised her head and stared at Rachel with an expression of absolute terror, which would have been adorable if not for her red eyes and tearstained cheeks.

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, sitting up and covering her face with her hands. “I am so, so stupid…”

“No you’re not!” Rachel exclaimed, throwing her arms around the trembling blonde girl and holding her as hard as she could. “You’re my brilliant, beautiful, amazing, perfect…girlfriend.” That got Quinn’s attention. Slowly, she peeked out from behind her hands, to find Rachel beaming at her like she was the absolute center of the universe.

“Really?” The blonde girl asked shyly, still looking like she didn’t quite believe it. In answer, Rachel took Quinn’s face in both hands, lightly stroking her tears away with her thumbs, and kissed her tenderly. 

“Really,” the dark-haired girl whispered. Quinn kissed her back urgently, her hands slipping up the back of Rachel’s shirt and tracing aimless patterns over her hips, pulling her closer. 

“Hey, let’s go! The pizza’s getting cold…” The two girls sprang apart on the bed when the door flew open to reveal Michael, Rachel’s second dad, standing in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry!” Quinn squeaked, going white again.

“Don’t be mad at Quinn, Daddy,” Rachel said in her firmest, most authoritative tone, which might have been more commanding if she hadn’t had Quinn’s lipstick smudged across her face. “I was the one who started it, so if you’re going to get upset”—

“Oh, girls, please. I’m not upset. In fact, I’m thrilled you’ve both got all your clothes on.”

“Ew! Daddy!” Rachel shrieked, turning and burying her face in a pillow.

“You’re not mad?” Quinn asked faintly, her breathing starting to become shallow again.

“No, honey, I’m not mad, and Jacob won’t be either. Love isn’t something to get angry about in this house.” Quinn opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. She still wasn’t breathing normally, and she was starting to feel dizzy.

“Breathe, baby,” Rachel whispered, rubbing her back, but Quinn couldn’t make her shallow gasping stop. “Daddy! You broke my girlfriend!” 

“All right, let’s all calm down,” Michael said, sounding perfectly calm himself. Spending all day treating critically wounded patients in the Emergency Room did tend to make everyday teenage hysterics a little less frightening, even with a pregnancy thrown into the mix. “Quinn, honey, you’re all right…” He pulled her by her hips to the edge of the bed, and gently pushed her head down between her knees. “Just relax now, kiddo. You’re not going anywhere. This is your home, sweetheart, for as long as you want it to be.” Rachel just kept rubbing Quinn’s back, looking anxiously back and forth between her dad’s calming face, and her girlfriend’s heaving shoulder blades.

“Thank you,” Quinn whispered when she finally got her breath back, and slowly sat up. Her face was still frighteningly pale and tearstained. 

“I love you,” Rachel whispered back, smiling her thousand-watt smile. 

By the time they got downstairs, the pizza really was cold. But no one minded very much.


	5. Promises

“You owe me fifty bucks, babe,” Michael smugly informed Jacob when he arrived in the kitchen, Quinn and Rachel at his heels.

“Already?” Jacob squealed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought for sure it would take at least another month for Rachel to finish her pro/con list.”

“Well unless that list was stuck behind Quinn’s tonsils…”

“Oh my God, will you both shut up before I have an aneurysm?!” Rachel shrieked, glaring furiously between her fathers as her cheeks flushed bright red. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You were betting on, on…” She stuttered over the end of her sentence, unable to complete the thought out loud.

“Over how long it would be before we caught the two of you making out? Yes, princess, we certainly were. And I for one am none too pleased that you just cost me $50…but congrats, anyway.” Jacob winked at the pair of them.

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” Quinn moaned softly, and Rachel snapped out of her frozen fury to pull her girlfriend down into a chair at the kitchen table, anxiously peering into the blonde girl’s face to make sure she wasn’t going to start hyperventilating again.

“Okay, no more teasing,” Michael promised, going over to Jacob to help dish out the pizza. “Quinn nearly passed out after I walked in on them upstairs, hon. I think we’re gonna have to be a tad more sensitive than usual with this one.”

“Oh, sweetie!” Jacob dropped the pizza and immediately went over to the table to squeeze Quinn’s shoulder. “Don’t pay any attention to us, we’re only teasing. We forget what it’s like for someone who isn’t used to it, and we certainly aren’t trying to give you a heart attack. We knew from the day Rachel asked us if you could move in that she loved you—it wasn’t a problem then, and it’s not a problem now. We knew this was gonna happen eventually…all we ask is that you treat each other with respect, and try not to break each other’s hearts.”

“I promise,” Quinn agreed urgently, nodding wide-eyed at one of the two coolest parents she’d ever met in her life. Then she turned back to Rachel, and took the smaller girl’s hand in both of hers. “I promise,” she whispered again, staring into the deep brown eyes fixed on hers.

“I promise, too,” Rachel murmured, wide-eyed and earnest. They were both too shy with their newly discovered feelings to kiss in front of Rachel’s dads, but the beaming smiles they gave each other sealed their promise almost as well. Then, after a moment of silence, Quinn cleared her throat and looked up sheepishly.

“Would it be massively insensitive of me to ask if we can eat now? I’m freaking starving.” 

The rest of the evening was surprisingly normal, with Quinn and Rachel finishing their homework in the den while Rachel’s dads cleaned up; then they all watched Planet Earth together on the Discovery Channel. Quinn actually fell asleep on the couch with her head in Rachel’s lap, she was so drained from the intense emotions she’d run through in the course of the evening (and in the last few weeks, she’d started to notice that she was more tired than usual, anyway, which Michael assured her was perfectly normal and would probably intensify as her pregnancy progressed). Rachel didn’t have the heart to wake her; she just played absently with the sleeping girl’s hair until the credits rolled, gently rousing her with soft kisses all over her face. Michael and Jacob had already gone up to bed, so Rachel wasn’t self-conscious about waking her girlfriend with kisses.

“Hmmmm…” Quinn sighed sleepily, showing no sign of opening her eyes. “Go away, Finn, she doesn’t like you anymore…and you can’t watch…” Rachel giggled, and the vibration jolted Quinn awake. “Oh…hey,” Quinn yawned, blinking up sheepishly at her girlfriend’s smiling face. “I was having the weirdest dream…”

“Yeah, I just caught the previews,” Rachel teased, smoothing Quinn’s tousled hair back to kiss her lightly on the mouth. “So you don’t want us to make out in front of Finn?” Quinn blushed, but giggled back, turning to press her face into Rachel’s leg.

“C’mon sleepyhead, let’s go upstairs,” Rachel urged, tugging on Quinn’s hand to pull her up. “Tomorrow’s another big day.”

“Yeah…” Quinn sighed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with an absentminded grin plastered to her face. “Rach…about tomorrow? What do you want to tell people? About us, I mean.” The blonde girl bit her lip, her hazel eyes suddenly alert with nervousness.

“What do you want to tell them?” Rachel hedged, returning Quinn’s anxious look.

“I asked you first.”

“Right, okay. Well…I, um…I guess I….kinda…want the whole world to know that you’re all mine now. You know, if that’s okay. I mean everyone already thought we were doing it before, so…”

 

“That’s okay,” Quinn nodded breathlessly, beaming. “That was what I wanted you to say.”

“Oh…” Rachel grinned, blushing, obviously pleased that she’d passed her first girlfriend test. “Good.”

“Hey Rach?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

They didn’t bother going through the charade of going to sleep in their separate beds that night; Quinn followed Rachel into her room, and Rachel didn’t try to stop her. They were both a little nervous, worried about what would be expected now that their feelings were out in the open, and Quinn’s erratic heartbeat made the baby start kicking again as they curled up together in the middle of Rachel’s large bed.

“Oh, wow, she’s doing baby aerobics in there or something,” Quinn sighed, rubbing her stomach to try to calm the kicks that were jolting her out of her sleepy state. “I guess it’s my fault…I need to calm down.”

“Are you nervous, too?” Rachel asked softly, curling an arm around Quinn’s waist to thread their fingers together over the pregnant girl’s stomach. 

“Yeah,” Quinn whispered, nodding in the darkness.

“It’s okay…we don’t have to do anything tonight. I really just want to hold you. If that’s okay.”

“That’s extra-strength okay,” Quinn sighed happily, squeezing Rachel’s fingers in her own. She noticed that if that’s okay was quickly becoming Rachel’s mantra, and she found that she really liked it. It showed her that Rachel wanted her to be happy and secure more than she wanted…well, anything else. That thought made her heartbeat kick up again with giddy swarms of butterflies, and the baby, who had quieted in the last few minutes, responded with a fresh round of enthusiastic kicks.

“Wow, she’s going for the gold tonight,” Rachel observed drowsily, feeling the kicks easily with her hand still pressed to Quinn’s belly.

“For real,” Quinn agreed, yawning. “I hope she chills out soon…I’m sleepy…” Suddenly Rachel withdrew her hand from Quinn’s, and pulled away from her back. “Hey,” Quinn whined.

“Shh, roll over,” Rachel murmured, urging the blonde girl onto her back. 

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked shyly, as Rachel curled up with her head resting on Quinn’s baby bump.

“Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep my little baby…” Quinn felt tears sting her eyes as Rachel softly sang to the baby, and the kicks instantly began to ease. Though she knew the lullaby was intended to soothe the baby, and not her, the blonde girl felt herself sinking into sleep, too, under the powerful effect of her girlfriend’s voice. She just barely managed to slip a hand into Rachel’s silky hair before drifting off into a deep sleep. Rachel kept singing for a few more minutes, even though she was pretty sure that both Quinn and the baby were out cold. Then, when she was sure it was safe, she moved the dead weight of her girlfriend’s hand from out of her hair, and crept back up to nestle against her shoulder, rubbing her face into Quinn’s sweet-smelling blonde hair. 

“Goodnight, my angels,” she whispered drowsily. Then she followed Quinn into sleep. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

The next day at school started out fairly normally; apparently, there wasn’t much of a visible difference in the way Quinn and Rachel were acting now than they had before. They were both too shy for real public PDA—no kissing against the lockers—but they still had their hands all over each other most of the time, and they still made moony-eyes at each other when forced to separate by inconveniences like desks. It wasn’t until glee rehearsal that anything changed visibly.

They were rehearsing the choreography for “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” which had gone over so well at Sectionals they’d decided to carry it over to Regionals, too. At one point, when Puck twirled Quinn around, he playfully grabbed her ass, and she gave a small squeak and jumped back from the smirking football player. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, but before she got a word out, Rachel stormed over and smacked him upside the head.

“Keep your grabby paws off my girlfriend, Noah Puckerman,” the tiny girl growled, and Puck’s guffaw of amusement died in his throat when he saw Quinn move to stand next to Rachel, slipping her arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders and smirking at him delightedly. 

“For real?!” He demanded indignantly, as the rest of the club looked on silently. “I thought you were just being girly together, with all those sleepover parties an’ shit.”

“Nope.” Quinn shook her head, still smiling. 

“I can’t believe this! Are you seriously telling me I rate below Rachel Berry?!” 

“You and everyone else on the planet,” Quinn nodded, feeling a tiny shiver of delight run through the smaller girl’s frame beside her.

“Honestly, Puck, are you freakin’ blind?” Santana sighed, rolling her eyes, which made the rest of them snicker quietly. 

“All right, can we please get back to the number?” Mr. Shue said pointedly, regaining all their attention. And just like that, the rumors stopped being rumors, and the whole school knew that Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray were much, much more than friends.


	6. Science Geek

On the Monday and Tuesday before Christmas break, Quinn started falling asleep in her afternoon classes; and on Wednesday, she cried when Rachel tried to wake her up for school. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” the blonde girl whimpered, tears streaming down her face as the dark-haired girl pulled her close and felt her forehead, checking for a fever. “I’m not sick. I’m just so tired, Rach…please, please, let me sleep a little longer?” 

“Shh…don’t cry, angel face,” Rachel whispered, slipping a hand up the back of Quinn’s pajama top to trail her nails up the blonde girl’s spine, something that never failed to soothe her when she had hormonal pregnancy mood swings or nightmares. “It’s okay…you just need a day off, huh?” 

“Mmm,” Quinn sighed. Then she was out cold, her breath warming Rachel’s collarbone and sending pleasant chills up the smaller girl’s spine. It was physically painful for Rachel to get up and leave Quinn sleeping alone, but she knew that her dad wouldn’t let her stay home just to watch over her girlfriend; so she reluctantly crawled out of bed and got dressed.

“Hey kiddo, you’re running a little late today,” her dad said when she finally appeared in the kitchen. “Where’s Quinn? She better shake a leg if we’re gonna have time for breakfast.”

“She went back to sleep, Dad. She’s been really tired all week, and I really, really think she needs a day off, okay? Maybe even a couple of days. She cried when the alarm went off. I don’t think she’s sick, but I don’t know; maybe Daddy should give her a checkup later…”

“Don’t worry too much, princess, I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll let her sleep, okay? She’s almost five months pregnant now; it’s normal to be tired, with everything her body’s going through. I’ll call the school office and tell them she won’t be in today, and you can bring back her homework. Maybe I’ll teach her how to make my super-famous latkes later, if she’s up for it.” Jacob wiggled his eyebrows, and Rachel smiled, obviously relieved. 

“Thanks, Dad.” She threw her arms around his neck, and he patted her back. 

“I know, I know, I’m the coolest dad ever.”

“Yep.” Rachel kissed his cheek, scooped Quinn’s car keys off the kitchen table, and reluctantly left for school by herself. 

Without Quinn’s company, the day dragged by painfully slowly for Rachel. She’d grown used to being able to turn to the blonde girl whenever she had a funny thought or idea during class time, and every time she looked up and saw the empty desk where Quinn’s shy smile should’ve been, it was like a small but heavy rock dropped into her stomach. By the time she got to glee rehearsal, the dark-haired starlet was officially mopey. Before she walked into the choir room, she pulled out her phone and dashed off a quick text: School sux w/o u. It perked her up slightly to get a reply immediately: So come home! We have latkes YUM :) 

Everyone noticed how lackluster her singing was in rehearsal, but no one was tactless enough to say anything about it, not even Mr. Shue. He just said that with winter break so close, there was no point in learning anything new, and let them go early. Rachel was the first one out the door, making it home in record time to find her girlfriend curled up on the couch, nibbling on a fresh batch of homemade latkes and listening to her iPod. With her earbuds in, Quinn hadn’t noticed Rachel’s entrance; and Rachel took the opportunity to sneak up and jump into her lap, muffling the blonde girl’s surprised squeal with a kiss. 

“Fuck, you scared me!” Quinn gasped, yanking out her earbuds and trying not to smile at Rachel’s mischievous expression. “And you almost spilled the latkes.”

“So you like ‘em, huh? I thought you would.” Rachel leaned in and tasted Quinn’s lips again. “Mmmm…Dad’s special recipe!”

“Oh my God Rach, they’re soooooo good. I dunno if it’s ‘cause the baby’s half Jewish, but I seriously cannot stop eating these. Can we really only have them on Hannukah?”

“Well, if you like them that much, I’m sure we can make an exception…just tell Dad they’re the baby’s new favorite food, and he’ll probably make them every day until we all puke.” 

“Awesome.” Quinn beamed and picked up her iPod, which had fallen to the floor when Rachel snuck up on her. 

“What are you listening to?” Rachel asked absently, curling up with her head on Quinn’s shoulder.

“Radiolab.”

“Huh, I never heard of them.”

“It’s not a band,” Quinn admitted a little sheepishly. “It’s this really cool science podcast from WNYC.” Rachel said nothing, but lifted her head to stare silently at her girlfriend, one eyebrow raised in frank astonishment. “What? I can’t have layers?” Quinn asked defensively.

“No, I mean, of course you can— I just had no idea one of your layers was a science geek.”

“I am not a science geek,” Quinn huffed, scowling. “I just like learning weird trivia. Like, just now they were interviewing this guy with this crazy neurological disorder called proprioception, which means that his whole body is basically numb from the neck down, but he’s not paralyzed or anything—but since he can’t feel his body, the only way he can move is by making eye contact with the limb he wants to move and, like, concentrating really hard. So he hasn’t turned off any lights in his house in over ten years. Isn’t that wild?”

“Fascinating, Dr. Fabray. What’s the prognosis?” 

“Oh, shut up,” Quinn grumbled, pouting half-heartedly. “You watch Spongebob Squarepants.”

“Aww, don’t pout sweetie. I wasn’t really teasing you…well, I was, but not in a mean way. I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t even know you liked Public Radio.”

“I don’t, really. I just started listening to it because they mentioned it on This American Life.”

“You listen to This American Life?” Rachel gaped. Quinn scowled at the other girl’s flabbergasted expression.

“Layers. I have them,” Quinn said a little sullenly. Rachel cocked her head, grinning a little mischievously. “What?” Quinn finally demanded.

“Smart chicks are hot,” Rachel smirked, and leaned in to kiss her girlfriend senseless.


	7. Exploding Christmas

Rachel woke Quinn up on the first day of Christmas break with “Jingle Bell Rock” on the stereo and a mountain of tinsel thrown onto the bed, practically bouncing with excitement at the chance to share her family’s annual Christmas preparations with her girlfriend, who was pleasantly surprised to learn they’d be celebrating Christmas at all. Since they’d already lit the candles for all eight nights of Hannukah, she’d assumed that Christmas was out—but Rachel explained that they’d always celebrated both, since Michael’s family was Methodist, and Christmas was very important to them. They spent the first day of vacation finding the perfect tree, then picking out one new ornament each before unpacking any of the old decorations (another family tradition). Rachel picked a heavy silver ornament in the shape of a music note; Michael found a gingerbread man dressed in hospital scrubs; Jacob chose a blown-glass Santa riding a sleigh piled high with presents; and Quinn found a simple white dove, slipping it into the basket without comment. 

Rachel noticed how quiet the blonde girl was on the ride home, and worried over how sad she must be feeling at her first Christmas without her family; but rather than say anything and risk making her feel worse, the hyperactive starlet went out of her way to include Quinn in every aspect of their own holiday traditions, from the decorations and lights that they managed to pin to every inch of the house, to the special iced sugar cookies and peppermint cocoa. Sensing that Rachel’s happiness depended on hers, Quinn tried to show her nothing but smiles; but there were moments, when the dark-haired girl was laughing with her dads over some shared memory, that the pregnant girl couldn’t help wondering what her own parents were doing at that moment, and whether they missed her at all. 

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, the Berry house was so alight with festive energy that it almost resembled a holiday theme park. Quinn was unusually quiet, not out of melancholy this time, but nerves—Michael’s father, younger sister and brother-in-law would all be arriving any moment for Christmas dinner, and no matter how many reassurances Rachel tried to give her that they would all adore her, Quinn seriously doubted they’d be thrilled to meet their granddaughter and niece’s pregnant charity-case of a girlfriend. It didn’t help that the smell of the roasting turkey made her race to the bathroom for an extra round of puking just after she’d put on her best white dress, either. 

Sooner than the blonde ex-cheerleader was prepared for, the doorbell rang, and the population of the house was doubled. Rachel introduced Quinn to her grandfather (who she addressed as “Poppy”), aunt, and uncle with her usual beaming smile, and Quinn tried her best not to notice their eyes all going straight to her growing stomach when they shook her hand. She was painfully grateful when Michael whisked in and swept his relations into the living room for eggnog, and Jacob announced that he needed the girls to help him in the kitchen. Soon enough, they were all seated around the elaborately decorated dining room table, groaning under the weight of an enormous holiday meal that just barely fit on the large table, even with the extra leaf in for company. Quinn was so nervous, she could barely eat—a noticeable change to the three Berrys, who were used to seeing her polish off an entire jar of pickles in a day.

“Honey, do you want something else?” Jacob asked kindly, unknowingly making Quinn’s nervous stomachache double in intensity when Michael’s father glanced over with a disapproving expression.

“No, I’m fine,” She murmured, shaking her head. 

“You sure?” Rachel asked, squeezing Quinn’s knee under the table. “’Cause yesterday we practically had to padlock the fridge to keep you away from that stuffing.”

“I’m fine, Rach,” Quinn snapped, and for a moment an awkward silence fell over the table.

“Well, young lady,” Rachel’s grandfather rumbled, his voice a deep, rich bass note, “We can all see that you’re eating for two. I assume the baby will be given up for adoption when the time comes?” Quinn’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and she stared down into her lap, hands clasped nervously on her knees.

“If that’s what Quinn wants,” Rachel said, slipping her hand between Quinn’s in her lap.

“If?” the old man chuckled a little patronizingly at his granddaughter. “What other options do you think there are, here, pumpkin?”

“There are plenty of options,” Rachel replied hotly, sitting up a little straighter, clearly bristling at her grandfather’s presumption. 

“Michael? What do you have to say about this?” The old man demanded of his son, still looking like the whole thing was nothing but a big joke to him. “You’re not about to raise a stranger’s bastard, are you?”

“Poppy!” Rachel yelled, jumping up in her chair so fast it fell backwards, clattering to the floor. 

“Honey, calm down,” Michael said, but his voice wasn’t its usual soothing timbre. “Dad, we just haven’t talked it through yet, all right? Nothing’s been decided.”

“Well this is just ridiculous,” the old man stormed, his deep voice growing slightly louder and more intimidating. “What is there to talk through? These are children. Who’s going to raise this baby? My granddaughter? Adoption is the only option you have left, young lady! My son’s family has already been more generous than I’d have advised, and if you expect them to take on a baby too”—before he could finish his sentence, Quinn was out of her chair and bolting from the room, too humiliated to even defend herself. 

“Quinn! Wait!” Rachel cried, jumping up from her newly-righted chair to chase after her girlfriend, who was already out the front door with her car keys in hand. “Don’t listen to him, Quinn! Please, just wait a sec!” But Quinn couldn’t wait; she was blinded by tears and humiliation. Rachel chased her out into the snow, but the smaller girl slipped going down the front steps and had to grab the railing with both arms to keep from toppling over. By the time she righted herself, Quinn’s car was pulling out of the driveway into the thickly billowing snow. Rachel stared after her, trembling, for only a moment; then she stomped back inside, threw on her parka and grabbed Quinn’s, and marched back to the table, eyes blazing.

“Give me your car keys,” she said to Jacob, holding out her hand expectantly.

“Honey, you need to calm down,” her dad said gently, glancing across to Michael with a you-need-to-help-me-here expression.

“Give me your fucking car keys!” Rachel yelled, her face going red. 

“Hey,” Michael said sharply, his voice going so low that he sounded just like his father, sitting across the table. “Don’t you curse at your dad, kiddo. And don’t think we’re sending you out driving in a blizzard, either. You’ve only had your license for three months, and it’s getting nasty out there.” 

“You’re right, Daddy, it is awful out. And Quinn’s out there having a meltdown because Poppy was so mean to her, and she doesn’t even have her coat, and she’s going to crash her car or catch pneumonia or”—

“Rachel, calm down.” Jacob stood and put both hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “Of course we’re going after Quinn. We just don’t want you driving. We’ll all go—that way when we find her, Daddy can drive her car home, okay?” Glancing between her fathers, and seeing both their calm expressions, Rachel’s racing heartbeat slowed slightly; and she nodded.

“Fine. Let’s go.” She was barely aware of her dads telling her grandpa, aunt and uncle to stay and enjoy their meal, promising to be back as soon as they could. Rachel would have told them all to be gone by the time they got back; but it wasn’t up to her, and telling off her family wasn’t her top priority anymore. Not with Quinn out there all alone in a blizzard on Christmas Eve.

Once the three of them were in the car, Rachel had to admit she was glad to have her dads along. For one thing, it meant she was free to devote her attention to her phone, though she knew Quinn wasn’t likely to pick up; when that didn’t work, she stared out the window through the thick snow and growing darkness for any signs of the blonde girl’s car. They drove slowly through town for nearly three-quarters of an hour without any luck before Rachel’s cell phone rang. Neither of her dads had to ask who it was, judging by the expression on her face.

“Oh my God Quinn, are you okay? Where are you?”

“Can you come get me?” Quinn whispered, her voice rough and broken sounding. It was obvious to Rachel that she’d cried herself into exhaustion. 

“Just tell me where you are, baby. We’ll be there as fast as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” Quinn sighed shakily, and Rachel could hear her sniffling quietly. It made her want to hit something. “I’m at the bottom of Old Mill Road…I think my car’s stuck.”

“Shh, it’s okay, don’t worry about anything,” Rachel gushed, so relieved to hear her girlfriend’s voice that nothing else mattered to her. “We’re coming to get you, and everything will be okay.”

Rachel continued to croon soothingly to Quinn over the phone all the way to their destination, terrified to hang up until she had the blonde girl safe in her arms. It was a slower journey than she would’ve liked; Old Mill Road was at the far end of town, out past the edges of the county plowing area, and Michael refused to go above 20 miles per hour in the falling snow. Finally, their headlights fell on Quinn’s little red Chevy, stuck in a snow bank off the side of the road, and Rachel jumped out of the back seat almost before they’d come to a complete stop. She staggered through the thick snow and threw herself against Quinn’s passenger-side door, only to find it locked.

“Quinn?” She knocked hesitantly, all the terrified, frenzied energy draining out of her when she saw her girlfriend’s pale, tearstained face looking up at her through the fogged window. “Can…can I come in?” The blonde girl leaned silently across the seat and lifted the latch, and Rachel slipped in, wrapping her arms around the shivering girl with an involuntary sigh of relief. 

“Sorry,” Quinn whispered, laying her head limply against Rachel’s shoulder. 

“For what?” Rachel asked, genuinely flabbergasted. 

“For ruining your family’s Christmas. For ruining your life.” 

“Quinn. What happened wasn’t your fault.” Rachel grabbed her girlfriend’s chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to make eye contact. It made the dark-haired girl’s stomach twist to see the pain in Quinn’s hazel eyes, red and puffy from crying. 

“Of course it was,” Quinn sighed, closing her eyes again. “Everything your grandfather said was true…I’m ruining your whole life, Rachel.”

“Look, just stop it, okay? Stop punishing yourself! You made one mistake, one tiny mistake that millions of other girls have made before, and most of the time no one ever knows about it. Just because your luck was really crappy…it doesn’t mean this one mistake should get to define who you are now. My Poppy was a big jerk, and I’m so sorry. I really, really wanted this to be a perfect Christmas…for you.”

“Oh, baby…it’s okay,” Quinn smiled weakly, leaning her forehead against Rachel’s and closing her eyes. 

“Shh, c’mere…Jesus, you’re freezing,” Rachel groaned, rubbing her hands up and down Quinn’s arms to get her circulation going. “C’mon, I’ve got your coat, and our car has the heat on. We can come back for your car after the plows come through.” Quinn followed Rachel willingly to the warmth of the other car, where Jacob and Michael were waiting anxiously.

“Quinn, honey, I’m so sorry about how my father behaved tonight,” Michael said as soon as both girls were safely in the back seat. 

“It’s not your fault,” Quinn sighed, leaning her head against Rachel’s shoulder in obvious exhaustion. 

“Yes it is. We should’ve had this talk a long time ago, but…well, I guess we were trying to give you the time to think it through yourself, not push you into making a decision before you were ready. But we messed up on this one, kiddo. We should have at least talked about all the options before now. Then my dad wouldn’t have been able to blind-side you like that. Really, honey, we feel just terrible.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn insisted again, shivering a little as the warmth of the car started to bring her cold fingers and toes back to life. “I don’t want anyone to feel bad anymore. We can talk about the baby tomorrow…right now I just wanna go home.”

“That sounds good,” Rachel agreed, throwing Quinn’s coat over the shivering blonde girl like a blanket. “And then you need a nice hot shower to warm you up.”

“Do you think there will be any food left when we get back?” Quinn asked meekly. Rachel laughed in sheer relief, and her dads grinned silently at each other as they pulled back onto the road.

“I’m sure they’ll leave us a few scraps,” Jacob chortled, winking over the seat.


	8. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

When they got home, Quinn went straight upstairs to take a hot shower, still shivering from her extended, self-inflicted exile in the snow. Rachel didn’t follow her, which, to Quinn, served as further proof that she really was ruining the Berry’s Christmas, and they were all just too polite to say so to her face. She spent a long time in the shower, soaking up the steam and cradling her swollen stomach, and searching for the resolve to make the decision she knew she’d been putting off for far too long already.

When she was thoroughly warmed up, and too hungry to stay in the shower any longer, she got out and dried off, surprised to find Rachel sitting on the edge of her bed with a tray of food beside her. They locked eyes, and Quinn could see that Rachel was still waiting to see whether she was going to fall apart again, ready to offer her anything. It gave her a rush of deep affection, and a desire to put the other girl at ease for whatever was left of their Christmas. She smiled, a weary, but honest smile, and Rachel beamed back at her like the sun.

“I’ve heard of breakfast in bed, but Christmas dinner in bed is, like, totally off the charts of pampering behavior, Rach. What am I gonna have to do to pay you back for this?”

“You don’t have to do anything, Quinn,” Rachel said shyly, cocking her head as her wide smile turned bashful and her cheeks flushed crimson. “But if you’re offering…I’d settle for a kiss.”

“Cheap date, aren’t you?” Quinn teased, smiling back just as shyly as she crossed the room and sat beside the dark-haired girl on the bed, taking her face in both hands and claiming her lips in a gentle, tender kiss, that deepened into something more intense than either of them had been expecting. Too drained (and too hungry) for a real make-out session, Quinn eventually broke away from Rachel’s soft, delicious lips, ending with a quick kiss to the end of her nose, which made the smaller girl giggle. 

They shared their unorthodox Christmas dinner without talking much, both physically and emotionally drained from the events of the evening. When Quinn had inhaled every particle of food left on the plate, and leaned back against the headboard with a contented sigh, Rachel glanced up and gazed at her speculatively for a silent moment.

“Hey Quinn?”

“Hmm?”

“When was the first time you ever thought about kissing me?”

“What?” Quinn’s eyes, which had just closed in drowsy contentment, flew open again. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I thought it was fairly straightforward,” Rachel shrugged, smirking a little when she saw how red the blonde girl’s face was turning. “And from the way you’re blushing, I think it’s a little too late to pretend you don’t remember. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“You’re just insane,” Quinn replied, but her lips were betraying her by curling into a little half-smile as she shook her head. “Or else you’re just looking for a really weird way to take my mind off what happened tonight.”

“Could be,” Rachel cocked her head, scooting a little closer to Quinn on the bed. “But I wanna know. C’mon, I’ll tell you mine…”

“Okay, fine. Tell me.”

“But I asked you first.”

“So?”

“So…the person who asks first doesn’t answer first! That’s not how it works!”

“I would assume the person who most wants to know would do whatever was necessary to get their answer,” Quinn shrugged, raising her eyebrow playfully. Whether it had been Rachel’s intention or not, it was definitely cheering her up to see the dark-haired girl squirm like this.

“Okay,” Rachel said finally, looking up at Quinn with her big, dark eyes full of hope and tentative trust. “I’ll tell you first…but you have to promise you’re not gonna wuss out.”

“Cross my heart,” Quinn agreed, drawing an X over her breast. She noticed Rachel’s eyes lingering there a little longer than strictly necessary, but it didn’t annoy her the way it did when the boys did it—instead, she felt a rush of warmth flooding from her face straight down into her lap, where it settled between her legs. She gulped quietly.

“Okay, then,” Rachel said in a rush. “The first time I thought about kissing you was…um…when Dave Karovsky pushed me off the swingset and you kicked him in the shins.” Quinn’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, you mean…”

“Third grade,” Rachel nodded, smiling sheepishly. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Quinn asked quietly, blinking her hazel eyes at Rachel incredulously.

“I’m incapable of fucking with you, Quinn. I thought that was pretty damn obvious by now.” Rachel ducked her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, which Quinn had come to recognize as her (rarely seen) insecure expression. It made her heart clench painfully, and she leaned in and pressed her forehead against her girlfriend’s, drawing her hand in to lace their fingers together.

“Oh, Rachel…” she sighed, suddenly fighting tears again.

“Yeah, well. You’re really cute when you’re mad, you know. Now it’s your turn! Tell me.” Quinn smiled softly at Rachel’s anxious expression, and looked right into her bottomless brown eyes when she answered.

“The first time I wanted to kiss you was the first time I heard you sing.”

“You mean, in glee?” Rachel frowned, looking slightly confused. “With Finn?”

“Nope,” Quinn shook her head, feeling her own cheeks flushing a little as the truth bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. “I mean the first time I ever heard you sing.”

“You mean…”

“When we did The Wizard of Oz for our class play.”

“But—but that was…”

“Third grade,” Quinn nodded, smiling sheepishly. “It was the day before Karovsky pushed you off the swingset.” Rachel just gaped at her. 

…………………………………………………

Quinn’s sister picked her up that day, because her mom had a PTA fundraiser meeting. Grace was sixteen when Quinn was nine, and the little girl worshipped her pretty, popular big sister with goddess-level devotion. She was always proud to walk home beside her, especially when the teenager wore her Cheerios uniform, so the whole world knew that Grace Fabray was special. Quinn hoped she’d be special one day, too, though Grace always told her that she already was.

“So, did you get the part?” Grace asked as soon as Quinn ran to meet her.

“No, I didn’t get Dorothy. I’m Glinda the good witch. But I still get some songs.”

“Aww, Quinnie! That’s crap, it should’ve been you. Who else can sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ like you can? And what other girl in your class is half as pretty?”

“Rachel is,” Quinn replied immediately, her little cheeks turning red as she reached up for her sister’s hand. “It’s okay Grace, I’m glad she’s Dorothy. She’s so pretty…and she has the nicest, prettiest voice. When I heard her sing, it made my tummy feel funny.” The oldest girl cocked her head, glancing down at her little sister with a guarded expression.

“What do you mean, funny? Like you were jealous?”

“No,” Quinn shook her head slowly, grinning shyly. “Like…like I wanted to kiss her.” The slap across her face was so sudden, and so unexpected, it made Quinn freeze in her tracks, as if her little Mary Janes had just been glued to the sidewalk. She reached up and pressed her hand to her stinging cheek, staring up at her sister in pained confusion.

“Girls do not kiss other girls, do you understand? Don’t you ever, ever say that again, Quinn! Do you hear me?” Grace’s face was turning red, too, and Quinn could tell that she was truly angry, in a way that had never been directed at her before. 

“But…but why?” She asked, completely nonplussed. She was sure Grace wouldn’t be saying this if she’d heard Rachel sing for herself. No one could hear Rachel sing and not want to kiss her; that was obvious.

“Because it’s against God. The bible says it’s wrong.”

“But why?”

“Because girls are only supposed to kiss boys, dummy!”

“But why?”

“Stop asking why, Quinn! That’s just the way it is. If you kiss girls you’ll go to Hell, and you’ll never see Nanny and Poppy again, and Mommy and Daddy won’t love you anymore. Even Jesus won’t love you. Is that what you want?” Quinn shook her head, terrified, as fat tears welled up in her hazel eyes and spilled down her small cheeks. 

“I—I—I’m s-sorry,” Quinn stuttered, crying in earnest as she thought about how angry God must be with her already, just for thinking about kissing Rachel. But if God didn’t want her to have these feelings, why would He make Rachel so pretty and perfect? Why would He make her sing like an angel and let Quinn watch? It didn’t make any sense. 

“Oh, fuck, don’t cry,” Grace sighed, kneeling down on the sidewalk and hugging her sobbing little sister, patting her back to calm her down. “It’s okay, Quinnie. All you have to do is say you’re sorry, and God will forgive you. And you won’t ever think about kissing Rachel again, right?”

“Right,” Quinn sniffled, wiping her nose bravely on her sleeve and nodding earnestly. She was already getting another stomachache. But it wasn’t a nice one like she’d had when Rachel was singing.

The next day, she did her best not to look at Rachel, or talk to her, or think about her. They didn’t really know each other, so the not talking part was easy. But then at recess, that big, stupid bully Dave Karovsky had to go and pick on the tiny dark-haired girl, and Quinn felt her heart clench in her chest when she saw the large boy push Rachel off her swing into the gravel, face-first. When Rachel looked up from the ground with a bloody lip, Quinn forgot about Jesus, and walked right up to the big bully, kicking him squarely in the shins as hard as she could. She wasn’t very big, but she was strong for her size, and he squealed in pain and stumbled backwards amid the sounds of laughter from the watching crowd of children. As soon as he was gone, Quinn looked down at Rachel, who was now looking back up at her. The dark-haired little girl was smiling, a small, pained smile because of her split lip, but a real, Rachel smile nonetheless. Quinn’s stomach did a little back flip, just like the one during auditions yesterday when she’d heard the other girl sing. Then she remembered the sting of her sister’s slap. She remembered that God didn’t love her when she thought about Rachel that way. 

Without a word, Quinn turned and fled the playground. From then on, whenever her stomach bubbled up with funny feelings around Rachel, she told herself it was because she hated the other girl. She didn’t like her. She hated her. That was the best she could do…because not feeling anything was just not an option. 

………………………………………………..

“Are you honestly telling me,” Rachel said slowly, back in Quinn’s bedroom in the Berry house, “that you’ve liked me since third grade?”

“Yeah,” Quinn nodded, not sure whether to smile or cry. “And also why I’ve been a complete asshole since third grade. I’m so sorry, Rach…I’m sorry I was so weak and spineless and”—Quinn didn’t get to finish her rant, because Rachel was jumping into her lap and kissing her for all she was worth. 

“You’re amazing,” the dark haired girl whispered when she finally pulled her lips away from Quinn’s. “You’re brave and beautiful and amazing, and I fucking love you.” She smoothed her fingers through her girlfriend’s silky blonde hair, dropping soft kisses all over her face. 

“You’re amazing,” Quinn countered, shaking her head. “And I love you, too…but are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m sure,” Rachel murmured, planting a light kiss under Quinn’s ear. The blonde girl gasped and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s slim waist. “But if you need a little convincing…I think I might be able to prove it.” They didn’t get out of bed again until Christmas morning.


	9. Chocolate vs Strawberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap incorporates the back-story of Shelby as Rachel’s birth mom, but goes significantly AU. So, no spoilers.

Rachel woke up alone in Quinn’s bed on Christmas morning, and pouted for a minute before she realized how utterly unsatisfying it was to pout when there was no one there to see it. So she crawled out of bed, brushed her teeth, and went downstairs, still feeling grumpy and slightly unappreciated. After the long hours of searching for Quinn out in the blizzard the night before, Rachel sort of felt she’d earned some extra affection…not that she hadn’t already gotten it last night…but she woke up wanting more, and she felt bad that Quinn obviously didn’t want her quite as much. Her pouty expression dissolved when she walked into the kitchen and saw her girlfriend standing between her two dads at the stove, an expression of intense concentration on her face as she flipped a perfect, paper-thin crepe in the skillet in front of her. There was a dusty smudge of flour on one side of her nose, and she was actually wearing the old Santa Claus hat with the bell on the end that Rachel’s dads used to wear years ago, when they dressed up as Santa for her when she was little. 

When the crepe flipped without breaking, Quinn’s focused gaze broke into a huge smile, lighting up her hazel eyes with happiness. Instantly, Rachel forgot to be cranky. 

“Merry Christmas,” she said shyly, crossing the room to hug her dads and kiss Quinn good morning. She rubbed the flour off the blonde girl’s nose with her thumb, and they both giggled. 

“Look, Rach, I made Christmas Crepes!” Quinn gushed happily, waving her spatula at the serving platter by the stove piled with crepes, each one wrapped up like a tiny, elegant burrito. “Jacob showed me how.”

“This one’s a natural in the kitchen,” Jacob agreed, holding the platter up for Rachel’s inspection. “She only broke one before she got it! Now there are twice as many as usual. It’s nice to have a helper who doesn’t act like it’s a violation of the Geneva Convention to have to hold a spatula.”

“Mmmm,” Rachel sighed, ignoring her dad’s slight and putting her face close to the plate to inhale the fragrance of her favorite holiday breakfast. “Don’t think that just because you made them all, you get to eat them all, missy.” She raised an eyebrow teasingly. “There’s not much I won’t do for Nutella.”

“Duly noted,” Quinn smirked, taking the plate from Jacob and bringing it to the table. “Don’t worry, I made a whole plate of those for you. These have strawberries and banana.” Rachel raised an eyebrow. 

“You’d rather have fruit than chocolate? What kind of pregnant woman are you?” Rachel scoffed, while her dads burst out laughing. 

“Right now I’d rather have fruit,” Quinn shrugged demurely, going back to the stove to pull the second plate of crepes out of the oven, where they’d been kept warm. “That doesn’t mean I won’t want something else in an hour. So if you want ‘em, you better eat them while you have a chance.” She put the plate down on the table, looking extremely proud of herself. “Merry Christmas!”

The four of them sat down and ate, all of them complimenting Quinn on the perfect crepes, until she grew shy and insisted that Jacob had done most of the work, anyway. As soon as she’d finished the last bite on her plate, Rachel grabbed her hand and dragged her to the living room to attack the pile of presents under the tree. When all the gifts were exchanged, all the wrappings shredded, and all the pictures taken, Michael and Jacob shared a knowing look, and nodded to each other. 

“Quinn, honey, Michael and I have one more present for you. We hope it will help you decide what you want to do when the baby is born…and, well, here.” Jacob handed Quinn a heavy rectangular present in brightly wrapped paper, which she could tell right away was a book. 

“The Open Adoption Experience: A Complete Guide for Adoptive and Birth Families,” She read slowly, her eyes grazing over the cover photo of several smiling children of different races, seated on and around an equally diverse group of adults. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly, looking between Jacob and Michael for some explanation.

“Open adoption is when the birth mother picks the family her baby will go to, and the child grows up knowing they’re adopted. You’d get to visit, you’d get letters and photos from the adoptive parents letting you know how she’s doing as she grows up. She would know who you are, and when she gets older and wants to know about you—which is perfectly natural for adopted children—she won’t have to wonder. She can just call you up and ask you.”

Quinn looked back down at the book, and her eyes filled with tears. “I…didn’t know that was something I could…” Her voice choked up a little, and she put the book down and covered her face with both hands.

“You made her cry!” Rachel hissed at her dads in a stage-whisper. “On Christmas morning!” She got up from the floor, where she’d been inspecting her new noise-cancelling Skullcandy earbuds, and sat beside the blonde girl on the couch, kissing her hair and rubbing her back.

“It’s okay, Rach,” Quinn sniffed, wiping away the tears streaming down her face and giving the anxious singer a watery smile. “I’m not crying because I’m upset. I’m just…I don’t know what I am, but it’s not bad. I never heard of this before. Are you sure this is a real thing?” She was looking back to Rachel’s dads now, her eyes full of cautious wonder. 

“Of course, sweetheart, it’s real. We looked into it when we were getting ready to have miss diva, here,” Jacob smiled at Rachel, who rolled her eyes impatiently. “But we ended up deciding against it, because at that time, there had never been a baby placed with a gay male couple, and we were worried that no birth mom would ever pick us. That’s why we chose to have a surrogate—it gave us more control. And we’ve kept in touch with her over the years, even though we didn’t have to, because we didn’t want Rachel to grow up with unanswered questions about the woman who gave birth to her, and why she did it, and who she is.”

“Really?” Quinn was looking at Rachel now, her eyes full of wonder. “You’ve talked to your birth mom? You know who she is, and everything?”

“I…yeah,” Rachel nodded awkwardly, her face flushing uncomfortably. “I never brought it up around you because I didn’t want to be insensitive. But, yeah, we talk a few times a year. She lives in New York—we go there once a year to see theater and ballet and opera, and we always have dinner with her at Carmine’s. Her name is Shelby. She’s…a lot like me.” Rachel smiled sheepishly. “Total drama queen. But she’s talented—last year she was in an off-Broadway production of Our Town. It was very well reviewed.” She said this last part is if it was an automatic equation from well-reviewed theatrical performance to superior human being.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” Quinn shook her head sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said sincerely, biting her lip anxiously.

“No, it’s okay, I get why you didn’t want to bring it up, with me and the baby and everything. But…if I did this open adoption thing…I’d get to pick the family?”

“Absolutely,” Jacob nodded, flipping open the book and pointing to a chapter heading. “You start by reading letters from all the families in the pool, who are waiting to adopt; and when you see one you like, the agency arranges for you to meet. You can ask them anything you want, and get to know them before you make any decisions. And when the time comes and the adoption paperwork is drawn up, it stipulates how many visits and photos you’ll get every year, as the baby grows. It’s legally binding—the adoptive family can’t just disappear.”

“Wow…” Quinn sighed, unconsciously stroking her stomach in the soothing, absentminded way she’d developed as she’d started to show. “This is…really overwhelming. Thank you both, so much, for everything. I, I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart,” Michael said, speaking for the first time. He was quieter than his husband and daughter, and tended to wait until he really had something to say before opening his mouth. “Just read the book. Then we can all talk more about what you want to do next.” Quinn nodded, her eyes filling up with tears again. Rachel didn’t say anything, for once; she just leaned over and kissed Quinn’s cheek. Shakily, the blonde girl rose from the couch and reached for her girlfriend’s hand, and Rachel jumped to her feet to take it. They left the room in silence, until they passed through the kitchen, where the open jar of Nutella sat on the counter.

“Remember before, when I said I might want chocolate later?” Quinn asked petulantly, smiling shyly and wiping the last of the tears from her eyes.

“Maybe,” Rachel smirked, picking up the jar and holding it coyly out of Quinn’s reach. “You want it?” She asked teasingly, taking a few backwards steps toward the staircase. Quinn nodded, biting her lip in anticipation at Rachel’s devious expression. “Then come and get it, blondie.” With that, Rachel turned on her heels and bolted up the staircase, Quinn giggling at her heels.


	10. 101 Things to do with Nutella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap has some PG-13 sexytimes. Meaning, no actual sex, but some graphic making out. You're welcome.

Rachel ran all the way up the stairs and straight to her bedroom, bouncing onto the bed with the jar of Nutella still gripped tightly in her hands. By the time Quinn reached her, the lid was off, and Rachel was swirling her finger around in the thick chocolate spread, grinning impishly at her girlfriend’s nervous expression.

“Well? Don’t you want it?” she asked teasingly, holding out one chocolate-covered finger to the blonde girl, who stood biting her lip at the foot of the bed, her cheeks rapidly flushing pink. Though no one at McKinley would probably believe it, Quinn and Rachel hadn’t gone all the way. Yet. Sure, they both knew they could; they lived in the same house, and slept in the same bed whenever they wanted to, which was fairly often. But despite their confidant, dominant personalities when they were out in the world, in their own private life together, they were both a little shy. Rachel knew that Quinn still felt ashamed of the way she lost her virginity, and she didn’t want to disrespect her by pressuring her to put out, especially given their living situation—what if Quinn thought she’d end up homeless again if she said no? Rachel couldn’t stand the idea of getting into Quinn’s pants that way. She wanted Quinn to want it, to want her. 

For Quinn, the idea that Rachel could desire her, really and truly, with her ever-expanding baby bump in the way was pretty much inconceivable. She knew Rachel loved her; she couldn’t doubt that after all they’d been through together in the last few months. But she also knew how giving and selfless the dark-haired girl really was deep down, especially when it came to Quinn herself, and she did not want Rachel’s first time to be a pity fuck. She wanted Rachel to want it. And if that meant waiting a few more months, till after the baby was born…and maybe a few more months after that, so she could get back into shape…that was what she would do. 

At the moment, however, Quinn wasn’t thinking (all that much) about how fat and ugly she felt…she was thinking about the chocolate, and Rachel’s fingers. Together. She looked up from the tempting treat into her girlfriend’s dark eyes, sparkling with mischief and lust, all for her. Smiling shyly, Quinn took Rachel’s hand in both of hers, and sucked the chocolate-coated finger into her mouth. 

Rachel’s gasp of pleasure sent an answering surge of liquid desire through Quinn, settling insistently between her legs, where it throbbed deliciously. The blonde girl took her time, sucking every last speck of chocolate off the warm, smooth skin in her mouth, dipping into the sensitive spot between Rachel’s fingers with her tongue.

“Holy shit, Quinn,” Rachel whispered, making the throbbing between the blonde girl’s legs intensify uncomfortably. She pulled her lips back from the now damp skin of Rachel’s hand, and smirked at the dark red flush creeping up her girlfriend’s face. 

“I bet you want some too, huh Rach?” Quinn asked innocently, taking the jar from Rachel’s other hand and dipping her own finger into the thick chocolate spread, and blushing a little at the wanton look her girlfriend was giving her. “I mean, you did say there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for it…” Quinn trailed off, dragging her chocolate-covered finger across her bottom lip. Instantly, Rachel’s mouth was on hers, sucking the chocolate and the lip together between her teeth. Now it was Quinn’s turn to moan, her free hand snaking into Rachel’s thick hair as she returned the kiss with interest. She wanted to throw Rachel down on the bed and straddle her, grind their bodies together until the throbbing heat inside her exploded; but she couldn’t do that with her giant stomach in the way. The bump of her belly against Rachel’s flat stomach made Quinn freeze, just as Rachel was reaching for her hips to pull her closer.

“Oh…sorry,” Rachel panted, breaking away from the kiss to glance up uncertainly at Quinn’s guarded expression. “I, I didn’t mean to push…I thought you liked it…”

“I did—I do,” Quinn assured her hastily, hating the insecure look in Rachel’s dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Rach…it’s just so hard to feel sexy next to you, with my stomach the size of a planet.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel asked, staring at Quinn dumbfounded. “You, Quinn Fabray, don’t think you’re sexy?!?” Quinn shrugged, avoiding Rachel’s eyes.

“I’m just being realistic. After I have the baby, and get back into shape, sure, I’ll be hot again…but right now…”

“Right now, you’re gorgeous,” Rachel whispered, taking Quinn’s face in both hands and forcing her to look up. “You’re glowing Quinn…you’re like a Greek fertility goddess.”

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, Rach,” Quinn sighed glumly, handing over the jar of Nutella, which Rachel impatiently put aside on her dresser. 

“I’m not saying it to make you feel better, Quinn! I’m saying it because it’s true. If you don’t want me, fine, but don’t tell me I can’t want you. Because there’s nothing I can do about that…in fact, I kind of think I deserve a medal or something for the amount of restraint I’ve displayed thus far.” Rachel crossed her arms huffily, with her no one appreciates me scowl settling across her face.

“Restraint?” Quinn asked blankly, raising her eyebrows in frank astonishment. Rachel rolled her eyes in exasperation. 

“Yes, Quinn, restraint. The act of holding back or controlling one’s feelings or behavior.” 

“I know what it means,” Quinn huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “I just didn’t know that you were…holding back.”

“Of course I’m holding back! Hello, I’ve wanted you since the third grade, remember?!”

“Yeah, but, I…I mean…with the baby and everything…I thought you’d want to wait till after…” Quinn’s voice became softer as her insecurities bubbled up to the surface, letting some of the air out of Rachel’s righteous indignation. 

“I don’t want to wait,” Rachel said gently, sitting down on the bed and pulling Quinn down beside her. “I thought you wanted to wait. I was just trying to be, you know…chivalrous or whatever.”

“I don’t want to wait,” Quinn shook her head, a small snort of laughter bubbling up as they grinned shyly at each other. “I’ve never wanted to wait. I just didn’t think I could make it as good for you as you could for me…not right now, I mean. And I really, really want it to be good for you, Rach.” The enormous blush on Rachel’s face more than made up the embarrassment Quinn felt at admitting her fears.

“Who says I’m gonna be good the first time? I mean, sure, I’ve been studying Lesbian Sex 101 for over a month now, but like any physical activity, studying and actually performing are quite different, and it took me years of study to master ballet and tap, so I assume there will be some sort of learning curve involved in”—

“Rachel!” Quinn interrupted her girlfriend’s rant, smiling disbelievingly. Rachel stopped, took a breath, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You really have a book called Lesbian Sex 101?”

“Well, yeah,” Rachel shrugged sheepishly. “You know me, Quinn…I prefer to go into every new situation armed with as much information as possible. Though, as previously stated, I expect it will still take a while to learn the proper technique to put my theories into practice.”

“And you didn’t think I might like to study up a little, too? It’s not like I’m Brittney or Santana, you know. I only had sex once, with a dumb guy who got me drunk on wine coolers till I was practically passed out. I don’t even really remember it. And I certainly don’t know anything about having sex with women.”

“I guess I was worried you’d think it was stupid or something,” Rachel shrugged, grinning bashfully. “But…if you’re interested…I have another book that, um, might help us out a little bit more…if we’re, um, both not wanting to wait.” Blushing, Rachel stood and crossed to her dresser, opening her underwear drawer and pulling out a thick book. Wordlessly, she handed it to Quinn, who read the title: Your Orgasmic Pregnancy: Little Sex Secrets Every Hot Mama Should Know. When Quinn looked back up at Rachel, she was blushing, too, despite being amused at how similar Rachel and her dad were, both of them trying to solve all her problems with the right book.

“I wanna read this book,” the blonde girl said firmly, before tossing it aside and giving her girlfriend a smoldering look. “But not right now.” Beaming, Rachel pushed Quinn back against the headboard and climbed into her lap, kissing her for all she was worth. Quinn kissed her back, slipping her hands around Rachel’s hips and raking her nails lightly up her girlfriend’s spine, feeling her shiver of delight. Rachel’s hands moved from Quinn’s hair down to her stomach, slipping up under her shirt and trailing her fingers all over the smooth skin of Quinn’s baby bump. 

“You are so, so beautiful,” Rachel whispered into Quinn’s mouth, before pulling away to raise the blonde girl’s shirt enough so she could kiss her swollen stomach. Then she looked up, smiling, and gripped the edges of Quinn’s shirt with both hands. “Can I?” Quinn nodded, and raised her hands over her head, her expression still shy and a little nervous. “Just relax,” Rachel murmured, giving Quinn one more soft, quick kiss before tugging the shirt up over her head. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Rachel sighed, trailing her fingers down to Quinn’s bellybutton and staring unabashedly at the sheer material of her bra.

“You said that already,” Quinn pointed out, smiling shyly.

“Well it bears repeating,” Rachel shrugged, leaning in to steal more kisses from her girlfriend’s soft lips. The feel of Quinn’s smooth skin was making Rachel crazy, and she couldn’t stop her hands from wandering while they kissed. Realizing, finally, that her noble restraint had only served to make Quinn think she didn’t really want her as much as she actually did, Rachel decided that this was okay. More than okay. Emboldened with desire, Rachel grabbed both of Quinn’s hands and put them under the edge of her own shirt, which she was hoping she wouldn’t have to remove herself. Quinn grinned and bit her lip—God, she was so adorable when she was trying to be bold! And slowly, peeled off Rachel’s shirt, revealing a tone, tanned stomach and a lacy black bra.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” Quinn sighed, shaking her head in wonder as she reached out and trailed her fingers along the undersides of Rachel’s breasts. Rachel gasped and closed her eyes, and Quinn jerked her hands back in worry. “Sorry, was that too fast? I didn’t mean to”—

“No, shh, it wasn’t too fast,” Rachel assured her, grabbing Quinn’s hands and pressing them firmly back to her chest. “Please…” The desire was so plain on Rachel’s face, Quinn couldn’t doubt her. 

“Okay, baby,” Quinn murmured, kissing her again. Then she let her hands wander, trailing her fingers all over Rachel’s sensitive breasts, making the dark-haired girl shiver and sigh. The lacy material of the bra was rough against Quinn’s skin, and she soon grew impatient for the softness of her girlfriend’s skin against her own. “Can I?” she asked softly, her fingers resting on the front-clasp of Rachel’s bra.

Rachel nodded, smiling shyly as Quinn had a moment before. As soon as Quinn had the clasp undone, she slipped the bra back off Rachel’s shoulders, and cupped her girlfriend’s pert breasts in her hands. The effect was immediate. Rachel groaned and arched her back, pushing herself harder against Quinn, who felt the tightening of Rachel’s rosy little nipples against her palms.

“Jesus,” Quinn gasped, utterly overwhelmed with the intoxicating sensations coursing through her body. “You feel so good…”

“Fuck, yeah, oh my God Quinn…” Rachel whimpered, wrapping both arms around her girlfriend’s neck and kissing her deeply, swirling her tongue around Quinn’s until the blonde girl moaned throatily. All the while, her fingers continued exploring and teasing Rachel’s breasts, which were soft and smooth and perky and the perfect size for Quinn’s palms. “If you don’t stop soon,” Rachel panted, pulling her lips away from Quinn’s, “I’m gonna come…” Her breath was hot against Quinn’s flushed face.

“Really?” Quinn asked, pulling back a few inches so she could see the glazed expression on the shorter girl’s face. Her dark eyes were so full of lust and pleasure, Quinn felt the wetness pooling between her legs again. That had never happened with Finn or Puck. She used to think that was the way it was supposed to be; boys liked sex, and girls didn’t. She never knew it was supposed to feel good for her, too.

“Yesssss,” Rachel hissed, arching her back and squirming uncomfortably in Quinn’s lap.

“Sweet,” Quinn smiled devilishly, leaning down and replacing her left hand with her lips on Rachel’s breast, swirling the tip of her tongue around the rock-hard nipple, then sucking it into her mouth. Rachel shrieked with pleasure, both her hands going into Quinn’s hair to hold her there, as if Quinn had any intention of leaving. With her free hand, Quinn reached around Rachel’s back, pulling her in tightly and trying to hold her steady as she writhed. Meanwhile, her lips and tongue continued to feast on her girlfriend’s utterly perfect pink nipple. 

“Oh God Quinn, ohhhhhhhh yes yes yessssss…don’t stop, please don’t stop,” Rachel gasped, hoping she wasn’t gripping her girlfriend’s blonde hair too tightly, but too far gone to be able to form the words necessary to ask. Quinn, for her part, was too far gone to even notice that her hair was being pulled. She was lost in the world of Rachel’s skin in her mouth, gripping the perfect little nub lightly between her teeth, and fluttering her tongue against it like a hummingbird. Rachel’s whole body arched, her hands leaving Quinn’s hair to grip the headboard as a strangled cry escaped from her throat. Quinn held her up as wave after wave of shudders coursed through Rachel’s whole body, until she collapsed, sighing weakly, with her head on Quinn’s shoulder.

“You sure you never did that before?” The dark-haired girl asked finally, her voice much softer and dreamier than usual. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Quinn sighed, her heart still hammering in her chest from the heady experience of having Rachel writhing in her lap. “Did you really…I mean, it felt like you did…didn’t you?” Rachel lifted her head at Quinn’s shyly garbled question, grinning broadly, and took her face in both hands, kissing her gently.

“Oh yeah, I got there. It was amazing, Quinn. You were amazing. Though I have to admit…I thought that when I told you I was gonna come, you’d want to stop. And make me pray or something.”

“What!” Quinn laughed, shaking her head at Rachel’s sheepish expression. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, ‘cause Finn told me that’s what you used to do whenever he got…you know…worked up.” 

“Oh.” Now it was Quinn’s turn to look sheepish. “Well, yeah, that’s true. But I think I was just using religion as an avoidance strategy. So I wouldn’t have to think about why I didn’t like doing stuff with him…you know?”

“Mmm,” Rachel nodded thoughtfully, putting her head down on Quinn’s shoulder again and playing absently with her bellybutton. “But you like doing stuff with me…right?”

“Yes,” Quinn whispered, closing her eyes as Rachel’s fingers continued to wander across her skin. 

“Good,” Rachel nodded, lifting her head to give Quinn a long, slow kiss. “Because right now I really, really wanna show you how good what you just did to me feels…can I?”

“Oh, Jesus, yes,” Quinn groaned, feeling her heart start to hammer again as Rachel reached around to unclasp her bra. 

“I’m not Jesus. I’m Rachel,” the dark-haired girl smirked. “But if you stick around, I might be able to perform a few miracles for you…” Downstairs, Rachel’s dads turned up the volume a little higher on the kitchen stereo.


	11. DingDong

Quinn was close. Very, very close…closer, in fact, to an actual, for-real, earth-shattering orgasm than she had ever been in her young life. Rachel’s talented fingers were delicately tracing the soft swells of Quinn’s breasts (delicately, because they’d quickly discovered that her pregnancy hormones made them unusually sensitive and tender, and Rachel didn’t want to hurt her with over-enthusiasm). Quinn was gasping and babbling incoherently (which Rachel found both super-hot and utterly adorable), when a knock on the bedroom door made them both freeze. Quinn’s expression was mortified, while Rachel’s was livid.

“Go away, we’re busy!” Rachel yelled, immediately turning her attention back to the trembling, half-naked girl in her arms.

“Rachel!” Quinn hissed. “Don’t talk to your dad that way!” The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s flustered expression.

“Sorry kids, you’re gonna have to get un-busy for a minute,” Jacob’s voice called through the door, which thankfully was locked. “Santana’s on the phone for Quinn, and she says it’s urgent.” Now it was Quinn’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Thanks Dad,” Rachel called, reluctantly pulling away from Quinn’s warm skin and reaching for her shirt, then tossing the phone to her girlfriend, who glared at it like it had just told her there was a worldwide chocolate ice cream shortage going into effect.

“This had better be a fucking emergency,” the blonde girl growled into the phone, pulling her own shirt over her head awkwardly.

“Sorry, mija. Were you getting lucky?” Santana teased, and Quinn could practically hear her frat-boy smirk through the phone line.

“I am going to murder you in your sleep, Santi,” Quinn snapped, making the Latina girl chuckle even more, which infuriated Quinn until she heard the sound of a smack, followed by Santana’s squeal of “Ouch! Brit!” through the phone.

“Okay, okay, sorry Quinn. I just thought you’d want to know that your sister’s on her way over to see you.”

“Wh…what?”

“You know, your sister, Grace? Blonde hair, about 5’6”, looks exactly like you plus seven or eight years?”

“But how…how do you…” Quinn stuttered, her face rapidly draining of color. Rachel took the phone from her limp hand.

“Santana? What the hell did you say to Quinn?” Rachel demanded, looking at her girlfriend as if afraid she might pass out any second.

“Dude, don’t kill the messenger!” Santana exclaimed indignantly. “I’m just trying to give you guys a heads’ up. Quinn’s sister called here looking for her a little while ago, and I’m pretty sure she’s on her way over to your house right now. So, um, you might wanna make sure you’re both wearing underwear and everything.” Rachel took a long, slow, deep breath while Santana continued to snicker.

“Thank you very much for the warning,” Rachel said coolly. “I’ll try to make sure Quinn doesn’t murder you in your sleep. How long ago did she call?” But before Santana could answer, they all heard the doorbell. Rachel looked at Quinn, her face an unreadable mask. “Bye Santana,” the singer squeaked, hanging up the phone without waiting for a response. “Quinn? Are you gonna be okay?”

Quinn just kept staring at the bedroom door with her mouth half-open, white-faced. She didn’t look at Rachel, or say a word. “Quinn?” Rachel tried again anxiously, gently shaking her shoulder. “C’mon, say something baby. Tell me what you need right now. I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”

“I…I…uh…” Before Quinn could manage to form a sentence, there was another knock on the door.

“Quinn, honey, you have a visitor,” Jacob’s voice said gently from the other side of the door. “Do you want to come down?” Quinn’s hand squeezed Rachel’s painfully, and she finally snapped out of her blank stare, turning to look into her girlfriend’s dark brown eyes with her confused, frightened hazel ones.

“You’ll come down with me?” She asked faintly.

“Of course I will,” Rachel nodded, relieved that Quinn wanted her there and had recovered her powers of speech. “Okay, Dad, we’ll be down in a minute!” she yelled. After Jacob’s footsteps retreated down the hall, the two girls looked at each other anxiously for a moment.

“We should probably put our bras back on,” Quinn remarked out of nowhere. Rachel bit back a satisfied smirk.

Five minutes later, they came downstairs hand in hand, hearing the soft rise and fall of polite voices coming from the living room. Rachel’s eyes widened when she saw Quinn’s sister sitting on the loveseat; the woman was practically a carbon copy of her girlfriend, like someone had made a clone of Quinn and then hit the fast-forward button a few years. Her hair was a few shades lighter, and her eyes were blue, not hazel; but other than that, they were practically twins. Same delicate cheekbones, same cute little nose, same flawless skin. The only real distinguishing feature Quinn had (beside her hazel eyes, which Rachel found far more compelling than boring old blue) was her protruding baby bump, which Rachel noticed the other woman’s eyes going to haughtily as soon as they walked in the room. It made the dark-haired singer bristle. 

“Hi, Quinnie,” Grace said softly, forcing a polite smile onto her face that looked more like a grimace. “Merry Christmas.” Quinn didn’t say anything. Michael cleared his throat, and nudged his husband with his foot. Jacob took the hint and stood up.

“Grace, I don’t know if you’ve met our daughter Rachel,” he said graciously, going over to the two girls standing in the doorway and steering them toward the empty end of the l-shaped couch. 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m so grateful to you for looking after my sister.” That part, at least, sounded sincere.

“You don’t have to thank us,” Rachel shrugged, lacing her fingers together with Quinn’s again. The blonde girl’s hand was cold, her palm damp with sweat. “We love her.” The older blonde’s eyes hardened slightly at that, and there was another awkward silence.

“Well…” Jacob cleared his throat politely. “We’ll just leave you two to talk. Grace, can I offer you anything? Coffee?”

“No thank you.” Jacob nodded, and stood to go, glancing from his husband to his daughter. Rachel felt Quinn’s fingers tighten around her own.

“I want Rachel to stay,” the blonde girl said firmly, the first words she’d spoken.

“Quinn, please, let’s talk alone for a minute,” Grace replied, her stiff expression melting a little to reveal a much more human look of concern. Quinn looked from her sister, to her girlfriend, to the two men who she’d come to love as fathers. She sighed wearily. 

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Rachel asked quietly, putting her lips very close to Quinn’s ear. Grace didn’t miss the intimate way they were sitting and speaking with each other.

“Yeah. It’s okay, Rach. I’ll call if I need you.”

“Okay, sunshine,” Rachel smiled bravely, giving Quinn a chaste kiss on the cheek before she got up and walked out of the room between her dads, giving her girlfriend one final backwards glance as she left, with a small smile of encouragement. It calmed the wriggling worms in Quinn’s stomach, but only a little. She rested a hand on her baby bump out of habit, unconsciously soothing herself and the baby.

“So…” Quinn said stiffly when the two blondes were finally alone in the room. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

“Oh, Quinnie,” Grace sighed, crossing from the loveseat to the couch and throwing her arms around her little sister. “I’ve missed you so much…” 

“You missed me?” Quinn demanded, pushing her sister away as her hazel eyes welled up with angry tears. “Where the hell were you, Grace? I called you like twenty times when Daddy kicked me out!”

“I know, sweetie. I’m so sorry. Daddy called me too, and he said I wasn’t allowed to talk to you, or take you in…”

“You weren’t allowed to talk to me?” Quinn repeated incredulously. “You’re twenty-three years old, Grace! You’re a freaking adult!”

“I know, Quinnie. I’m sorry, okay? I was just scared…and he was so angry…and, you know, it was all such a shock. I mean, you were president of the Celibacy Club! And now I find out that the baby isn’t even Finn’s…”

“Did you really come here to tell me what a huge disappointment I am?” Quinn asked angrily, folding her arms stiffly across her chest. “Because if so, you can save your breath. I’ve already been humiliated enough, and I can assure you, this is never gonna happen again.” She almost had to bite down an ironic smirk as she said this last part. Nope, unprotected sex with boys was definitely not gonna be an issue for Quinn anymore.

“No, no— I’m not here to judge you. You made a mistake, and you know that; but Jesus forgives us our sins when we confess to him. You’re a good girl, Quinnie; you always were. I know there’s still a place for you in God’s kingdom. That’s why I want you to come home with me.” Grace reached out and tried to take her sister’s hand, while Quinn just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“So…you don’t care about making Daddy mad anymore?”

“There are more important things in this world than our father’s pride, Quinn. You have a baby on the way…and she doesn’t deserve to be born in a house of sin.” Quinn bristled and pulled her hand back.

“You mean, in this house? With the Berrys?”

“I’m not blaming you, Quinnie. I’m not. You’re sixteen, you had nowhere else to go, you were desperate. I’m ashamed that I didn’t bring you home with me sooner. But I’m here now, baby bug. You don’t have to stay in this house another minute.”

Quinn stood up, glaring at her sister incredulously. “No thank you,” she said in a quiet, steely tone. 

“Quinn, you need to listen to me. I’m your sister, your family. And when the baby comes…”

“What, Grace? What do you think is gonna happen when the baby comes?” Quinn demanded, starting to pace around the room in agitation. It didn’t help that half her brain was still hopelessly preoccupied with the interrupted makeout session she and Rachel had been having upstairs…her body was still thrumming, her nipples were still hard, and she still felt the wet pulse of raw need between her legs. She wondered, in the back of her mind, how long they’d have to talk to Rachel’s dads after her sister left before they could get back to what they’d been doing, because this was excruciating. 

“Listen, Quinn, I didn’t want to tell you like this, but…Mark and I can’t…” Grace closed her eyes, her face steeling with resolve just like Quinn’s did when she had to confront something difficult. In reality, they were both much stronger young women than their domineering father would’ve liked. “We can’t have a baby of our own. We’ve been trying for almost a year, and we finally got some tests, and…it’s not possible.”

“Oh.” Quinn blinked, some of her hormonal fury beginning to drain away. “Oh, Grace…I’m sorry.”

“But don’t you see, Quinnie? This is God giving us all a second chance. You get another chance to be a kid, and have a normal life…and I get another chance to be a mom.”

“You…you want me to give you my baby?” Quinn gaped incredulously.

“It’s the only way, Quinn. If you give her up for adoption, you’ll never know if she’s with a good Christian family; you’ll never see her grow up. And if you keep her, your life will be ruined. This is part of God’s plan, I know it is.” Quinn shook her head, a million different reactions flashing through her mind at once. 

“And some day…if she comes to you and tells you she’s gay? What will you do, Grace? Will you hit her in the face and tell her she’s going to hell?” The beaming smile slowly melted off the older Fabray’s face.

“I thought you forgot about that a long time ago,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t forget,” Quinn shook her head slowly. “You can’t just make someone forget that they’re gay.”

“You’re not gay!” Grace shouted, her face flushing crimson.

“Yes I am,” Quinn said quietly, with a small, sad smile. “It doesn’t matter how much you yell and scream, Gracie. You can’t change who I am. This is the way God made me.” 

“Don’t you dare say that!” Grace hissed, and Quinn thought her sister was going to slap her again, just like the last time they had had a conversation like this, all those years ago. But instead, Grace just grabbed her little sister by the wrist, and started dragging her towards the door.

“Grace! What are you doing?” Quinn demanded, struggling to free herself from her sister’s iron grip.

“We’re leaving. I’m saving you, Quinn. This house is poison!” The older Fabray continued to pull on her sister’s arm, dragging her across the carpet as Quinn struggled in the opposite direction.

“No! Stop it, Grace! Let me go! Let me go!” Quinn’s heart started to pound with panic; the blood rushing in her ears made it hard to hear the sound of footsteps entering the room behind her.

“Take your hands off her!” Rachel shrieked, forcibly removing Grace’s fingers from around Quinn’s wrist so the younger blonde could yank her arm back from her sister’s grip. Immediately, Quinn took several steps back, until she was shielded behind Jacob and Michael. Rachel ran to her side, and the two girls clung to each other like shipwreck survivors.

“I think you’d better leave now,” Michael said evenly, in his deep, commanding baritone. Grace just stared at her sister, who was shaking and crying in the tiny brunette’s arms; the same girl Grace had ordered her sister to forget when she was just a little girl.

“Quinn, please,” she begged, reaching out her hand one more time. “Please come with me…it’s not too late to save your soul.” Quinn raised her head from Rachel’s hair, and wiped her red eyes on the back of her hand, taking a deep, slow breath.

“I don’t need to be saved,” the pregnant girl said simply. She watched her sister’s sad expression shift to righteous indignation.

“I’ll pray for you,” Grace said sanctimoniously, then turned and walked out with her chin held high, exactly the way Quinn used to walk down the halls when she was head cheerleader and president of the Celibacy Club. The silence left in her wake rang out in the still room like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Quinn muttered, breaking the tense silence. Michael and Jacob both laughed—it was so unlike the blonde girl to curse—but Rachel still looked incredibly anxious.

“Baby, are you okay? Did she hurt you? Should we go to the doctor?”

“No, it’s okay…I’m okay Rach.” Quinn gave her girlfriend a watery smile, as Rachel took her face in her hands and began to gently wipe away her tears. “Thanks for saving me. Again.”

“I always will,” Rachel swore, leaning in on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to Quinn’s lips, not caring for once that her dads were watching. “I love you, Quinn.”

“I love you too,” Quinn murmured, putting her hands over Rachel’s and kissing her back enthusiastically. Jacob cleared his throat pointedly. “Oh, um, sorry,” Quinn squeaked, tearing her lips away from Rachel’s.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it? We really didn’t hear anything, though I think I can guess most of it.”

“Maybe later…right now, I think I need to go lie down for a while.”

“Of course, honey. Go rest. We’ll go get some ice cream for sundaes tonight, how does that sound?”

“Awesome,” Quinn grinned, feeling Rachel’s fingers interlacing with hers.

“Want me to come tuck you in, baby?” Rachel asked innocently, with an inquisitive look that Quinn knew well.

“Please,” the pregnant girl nodded, grinning devilishly. Hand in hand, they bounded up the stairs, neither one looking the slightest bit tired.


	12. Quinn's First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola Faberrians, this chap carries another moderate sexytimes warning for some highly descriptive making out! Enjoy :)

“You sure you’re still in the mood?” Rachel asked anxiously as soon as she and Quinn were alone in her room again. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t…”

“Rachel. Up till the moment my sister tried to pull a Jesus intervention on me, all I was thinking about was how to blow her off without hurting her feelings…so I could come back up here and let you keep doing exactly what you were doing before.” Quinn blushed a little, still shy of saying out loud exactly what she wanted her girlfriend to do to her. Rachel, who had always been quite verbal and perfectly comfortable with her expansive vocabulary, smirked wickedly at the blushing blonde.

“You mean, when I took off your bra and felt you up till you got all wet?” Quinn’s blush went from pink to scarlet, and she nodded, biting her lower lip with a timid grin.

“So you want me to do that again?” Rachel drawled, crossing to where her girlfriend stood, pulling her in by the hips and slipping her hands up the back of the blonde girl’s shirt, lightly raking her nails up Quinn’s lower back. The pregnant girl sighed deeply, and nodded again.

“I wanna hear you say it,” Rachel whispered stubbornly, kissing Quinn’s throat and gently grazing her teeth across the sensitive skin of her pulse point. “Tell me what you want, baby…”

“Ohhh…Rachel…” Quinn moaned and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl, threading her fingers through long, silky dark hair. 

“I’m right here,” Rachel murmured against Quinn’s throat, keeping her touch whisper-light, fingers teasing up and down the blonde girl’s spine. Quinn whimpered and arched her back, trying to force more contact.

“Pleeeease,” Quinn whined, trembling with pent-up desire. Her body was so sensitive these days, with the flood of hormones rushing through her system, that it barely took a lustful glance from Rachel to get her turned on and aching for the dark-haired girl’s touch.

“Please what?” Rachel asked coyly, slipping one leg between Quinn’s thighs and teasing her with a little bit of pressure. Quinn gasped, and made a raw, animal sound of pleasure in the back of her throat. She was rapidly losing control, something that Quinn Fabray as a rule did not do. But she couldn’t help herself anymore…and she didn’t want to. Nothing had ever felt this good.

“Please, please…please touch me,” Quinn whispered, raising her arms to let her girlfriend pull her shirt up over her head. Rachel happily complied, then made fast work of unhooking her bra, beaming at her beautiful girl with an expression of absolute adoration in her bottomless dark eyes. Quinn gulped nervously, letting Rachel push her backwards until the edge of the bed bumped up against her legs, where she lay back gratefully against the pillows. 

“Should I touch you here?” Rachel asked, gently cupping one of Quinn’s exquisite breasts in her hand. It was getting harder for the dark-haired girl to keep her desire in check and not just maul her gorgeous girlfriend, now that they were getting so close; but she knew that Quinn wasn’t ready for that. She knew Quinn needed to go slow. And she knew she would do anything, anything for this amazing, bright-eyed angel lying flushed and quivering beneath her.

“Yes,” Quinn groaned, fighting to keep her eyes open as Rachel began gently teasing and exploring her sensitive skin, avoiding the rosy little nipple for now. “Yes, yes, yessssss…oh God, Rachel, that feels better than anything…” Another animal whine of pleasure erupted from the back of Quinn’s throat, boosting Rachel’s confidence even further as she smiled her wide, beaming smile, and leaned down to capture Quinn’s wet, open mouth in a deep kiss. 

“Mmm…wait a sec,” Rachel panted, pulling her lips away and leaning back abruptly.

“No…no wait,” Quinn whined, tugging impatiently on Rachel’s arm.

“What if I’m squishing the baby?”

“You’re not. She’s fine. Just keep going.”

“Quinn! I could be cutting off her circulation…”

“Aghhh! Fine!” In one smooth motion, Quinn pulled her arms from around Rachel’s hips, and pressed them firmly against the mattress beneath her, scooting back hard against the headboard with Rachel still on top of her-- so she was suddenly half sitting up, with Rachel straddling her thigh, not lying on top of her baby bump.

“Whoa, you’re pretty strong, huh?” Rachel beamed, and leaned in to reclaim her girlfriend’s lips, her hand still cupped possessively to the blonde girl’s chest. She ran her fingers teasingly along the underside of the soft swell of Quinn’s breast, making her whimper and groan.

“You like that, angel face?” Rachel cooed, nuzzling her girlfriend’s throat.

“Yesssss,” Quinn groaned, her voice becoming decidedly louder as her inhibitions fell away, and she gave herself over completely to the feelings Rachel was pulling out of her. She arched her back against the pillows, trying to press her body into Rachel’s with more friction. 

“You want me to touch you like this?” Rachel murmured, pressing her hips against Quinn’s thigh and pushing her leg between her girlfriend’s, right up against her hot core. Rachel could feel how wet and warm she was through the thin barrier of fabric between them, and it made her heart pound along with the throbbing between her legs.

“Ohhhh, yes! Just like that!” Quinn squealed, pressing her own leg up between Rachel’s without conscious thought. It was so natural, so perfect, so delicious, there was no resisting the impulse. Not that Quinn wanted to. Rachel gasped in pleasure when Quinn’s thigh pressed against her center, and kissed her hard. Then she moved her left hand up from where it was holding the soft weight of Quinn’s breast, and began lightly playing with her nipple, rolling it between her fingers and tugging gently on it. Quinn completely lost her mind, raking her nails up Rachel’s back with considerable force as she continued to grind against her girlfriend’s surprisingly strong, lithe body. They were both gasping now, too far gone to talk to each other any more, and Quinn knew, she just knew, that this was as good as it got in the world. There was nothing better than this. Nothing.

Just when the blonde girl thought she would die of pleasure, something broke inside her; she felt like she was falling off a cliff, or spinning upside down in a loop-the-loop rollercoaster. Her whole body seemed to spasm with release, as wave after wave of delicious shudders wracked her body. Slowly, her arched back relaxed, and she went limp against the pillows, with Rachel collapsing beside her, panting and out of breath.

“Ohhhhh…wow…” Quinn sighed lazily, trailing her fingers absently through Rachel’s mussed hair with a huge, dopey smile plastered to her face. “You totally rock my world, Rach.” The dark-haired girl giggled, raising her head from its resting place on Quinn’s shoulder, beaming at her with the most satisfied Rachel Berry grin the blonde girl had ever seen.

“Glad it was good for you, too,” the singer smirked, reaching one hand down to lazily rub Quinn’s rounded stomach while they shared a sweet, soft kiss. 

“It wasn’t good,” Quinn disagreed, pulling her lips away after a few long minutes of gentle, unhurried kissing. 

“It wasn’t?” Rachel asked anxiously, a crestfallen expression settling across her face. Quinn shook her head seriously.

“Nope. It was, like…earth-shatteringly amazing.” Rachel’s smile got so big, it threatened to swallow her whole face. 

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Quinn nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, you know that was the first time I, um…you know I never…” The blonde girl trailed off awkwardly, biting her lower lip in that adorable, shy way that Rachel found so utterly endearing.

“You mean you’ve never had an orgasm before? Ever?” The dark-haired singer demanded, her jaw dropping in astonishment. “Not even by yourself?”

“Nope,” Quinn shook her head bashfully. “That was my first.”

“Holy shit, Quinn…” Rachel blinked dazedly, as shock and pride warred for top billing in her head. “No wonder you used to be so bitchy all the time. You were just horny and frustrated, huh?” Quinn laughed and slapped the smaller girl’s shoulder playfully.

“I guess so. What was your excuse?”

“I don’t need an excuse. I’m a star. We have to be high-maintenance, or no one will know how they’re supposed to treat us once we’re discovered and become famous.” Rachel smirked, tossing her hair over one shoulder in a glamorous, affected pose. Quinn’s giggles continued unchecked. 

“But you know,” Rachel continued slowly, the devilish glint coming back into her eyes, “I really should teach you how to take care of your own needs, sunshine…it will help keep you calm and happy when I’m not around, and it will also help us have a better time down the line if you know what you like, how you want to be touched.” Rachel continued tracing the tips of her fingers over Quinn’s stomach as she spoke, feeling a few feisty kicks from the baby. “I think Drizzle agrees with me.”

“Her name is not Drizzle, and she’s not agreeing with you. She kicks when you touch me…that means she wants you to keep your hands on me.”

“All the time?” Rachel asked teasingly, laying her palm flat against Quinn’s stomach and gently stroking her thumb around her girlfriend’s bellybutton, which was starting to protrude slightly.

“Mm-hmm,” Quinn nodded, grinning playfully, and not looking too shy about it for once.

“Well if that’s what the baby wants, I guess I have no choice…” Grinning hugely, Rachel leaned in and pressed another kiss to Quinn’s lips, her hand still playing gently over the pregnant girl’s stomach, where the baby was happily kicking away.


	13. Stormy Weather

“How much longer are you gonna pout? Seriously, I’ll set my cell phone timer.”

“I resent the presumption that I am pouting. I’m simply trying to get my Algebra homework done. Again. Now will you please be quiet so I can concentrate? We only have a few more minutes before class starts.”

“Dammit, Rachel! I’m sorry I spilled orange juice on your homework. I’ve said it like fifteen times already. What else do you want? It’s hard to judge how far away things are from my stomach, okay? I already feel like an elephant in a china shop, you don’t need to rub my face in it.”

“I’m not rubbing your face in anything, Quinn. I’m simply trying to repair my homework to avoid a failing grade. I really don’t have time to soothe your ego right now.” Rachel didn’t need to look up from her soggy math notes to know that her girlfriend was glaring daggers at her, but for once, she didn’t have the energy or the inclination to do anything about it.

“Whatever,” Quinn muttered under her breath, crossing her arms and turning away from the dark-haired girl on the cafeteria bench.

“What the hell crawled up your ass and died, Juno?” Santana dropped onto the bench beside the pregnant girl with her lunch tray, while Brittney sat beside Rachel.

“Nothing, San. Thanks for your obvious concern for my wellbeing,” Quinn snapped, poking moodily at the remains of her lunch, which had been doused with orange juice along with Rachel’s math homework. She was contemplating whether or not it would be too humiliating to bring her ruined tray back to the lunch ladies and beg for a new sandwich. 

“Hey, innocent bystander here, Q. Don’t get all pissy at me just ‘cause Berry didn’t give you enough hickeys last night or whatever.”

“Santana!” Quinn and Rachel both snapped at the same time. 

“Jeez, PMS much?” Santana rolled her eyes, picking up her sandwich with a shrug.

“Quinn doesn’t get PMS anymore, San. She’s, like, eight months pregnant,” Brittney piped up helpfully. Santana smiled at her impishly, in the way only Brittney could make her smile, and leaned across the table to give her not-so-secret girlfriend a quick kiss. Rachel huffed at the pair of them.

“Yes, Brittney, we’ve all noticed that Quinn’s pregnant, thanks,” the dark-haired singer said sarcastically. Quinn glared incredulously at her girlfriend, then pushed her ruined lunch tray across the table and stood up in a trembling fury.

“Thanks, Rach, I really need as many reminders as possible about that right now, otherwise I might forget what a whale I am.” The pregnant girl grabbed her backpack and stormed away. 

“Quinn!” Rachel called after her, a mixture of apology and annoyance in her voice that was obviously not enough to make the blonde girl turn around. Brittney and Santana were both expecting the diminutive brunette to chase after her girlfriend, but instead she just sighed and dropped her forehead onto the table.

“Way to go, Berry. Classy.”

“I didn’t mean she was fat!” Rachel snapped, her ire turning back to Santana now that Quinn was gone. “I just meant she was moody. And she is! So what if I do have PMS?”

“Dude, Q’s eight months pregnant. That’s like eight months of non-stop PMS, plus a bowling ball strapped to your hips. You’re lucky if you’re getting any from her at all anymore,” Santana shrugged. Rachel groaned and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Rachel, are you okay?” Brittney asked, patting her arm. 

“I’ve been better,” Rachel sighed, finally opening her eyes again. “I know it’s normal for pregnant women to be moody, especially near the end…but it’s like I always have to take it, and I’m never allowed to be moody back. And I just can’t handle it all the time…especially right now. We have midterms and regionals coming, and I’m just so exhausted…” Rachel trailed off, absently rubbing her forehead.

“Yeah, you do look kind of craptastic, no offense. Is Q keeping you up all night with cravings and stuff?”

“No, not exactly…she actually sneaks out of bed and makes her own midnight snacks most of the time,” Rachel admitted guiltily. “But the baby keeps kicking me. Quinn sleeps through it somehow, so it’s just me and Driz playing the stop-kicking-and-go-to-sleep game. And she won’t stop unless I sing to her. Last night she woke me up at 3:22am.”

“If you don’t want to be in the shithouse tonight, you better stop calling the baby Drizzle,” Santana advised. “You know Q hates that.”

“Wow, she kicks hard enough to wake you up?” Brittney asked, looking impressed. “I bet she’ll be captain of the Cheerios one day, just like her mom.” Rachel’s weary, annoyed expression softened into a wistful grin. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. Then, wearily, she added—“Dammit.”

Quinn avoided Rachel for the rest of the afternoon, managing to get to every class first and find a seat with no other free seats around it. She wouldn’t make eye contact, and she wouldn’t answer any of Rachel’s texts. On a normal day, Rachel would probably have pushed harder, done whatever necessary to obtain Quinn’s forgiveness and make her sunshine smile again; but right now, the dark-haired starlet was just too tired. Her exhaustion was making her cranky, too—why should she be the one to fall all over herself apologizing for some tiny, perceived slight? Quinn was the one being unreasonable, and if she couldn’t see that, she obviously didn’t appreciate all the little things Rachel had been doing for her happiness lately. So, Rachel gave up trying to make up with Quinn after sixth period. Instead, she devoted her attention to the headache blossoming behind her eyes. 

Quinn wasn’t in Glee that afternoon, because she had a checkup with her obstetrician. Rachel had originally wanted to accompany her, but Quinn had assured her—insisted, really—that Puck could do his “Daddy duty” and take her for once; that it was too important for Rachel to be there for Glee with regionals less than a month away. So, Quinn wasn’t there to hear Rachel make an absolute fool of herself when Mr. Schue informed her that she had, apparently, lost her voice. It was so humiliating. Rachel actually managed to be mad a Quinn in that moment, for not being there to protect her. How often had she protected Quinn? And the one time when Rachel really needed her (to tell her to stop singing before she embarrassed herself), she wasn’t there. She was off with Puck. Off laying on a cold exam table with her feet propped up in metal stirrups, but still.

“Finn,” Rachel whined, valiantly holding back her tears of humiliation, “will you please drive me to the doctor? I don’t want to worry my dads over this.”

“Um…sure, Rachel,” Finn shrugged awkwardly, unsure what the standard of etiquette was for chaperoning your ex-girlfriend who’s dating your other ex-girlfriend. “But, I mean, wouldn’t you rather have Quinn take you?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes,” Rachel sighed, pouting dejectedly as she shuffled her feet toward the student parking lot. “But at the moment…I’m trying not to bother her.”

“This may sound weird coming from me,” Finn started hesitantly, scratching the back of his head in an offhanded, oafish way, “But…I kinda think she’d want to be bothered. She really loves you, Rach. Even when she’s going batty with pregnancy hormones.”

“Every time I open my mouth lately, I say something that pisses her off,” Rachel sniffled, her voice beginning to wobble with the effort of not crying. “I know it’s not her fault; but it still hurts…” Rachel started to cry, and Finn wrapped one of his huge arms around her shoulders, giving her an awkward squeeze.

“C’mon, it’ll be okay. You’ll feel better once you get your voice back.”

“Yeah,” Rachel nodded glumly, too terrified to admit her deepest fear: that her voice wasn’t coming back.

An hour and a half later, armed with a prescription for some heavy-duty antibiotics, Rachel was back at her own front door, on the verge of a complete meltdown. She’d managed to talk her way out of having surgery for now; but if these antibiotics didn’t work, she knew she’d have no choice—the doctor had made it pretty clear that this wasn’t an infection that could be ignored. She felt like her whole life was falling apart at the seams. And she was just so tired.

“Hi,” she murmured listlessly when she saw Quinn curled up on the couch with her homework. Rachel leaned against the doorframe, waiting for her girlfriend to give her some sign that she was actually wanted.

“I saw you getting out of Finn’s car,” Quinn said coolly, not looking up from her English reading. “I guess it’s a lot more fun to hang out with the football stud who drools all over you than sitting in the waiting room at the OB with your pregnant girlfriend.”

“Quinn…” Rachel’s voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands as she began to sob. These were not her glee club diva drama tears; these were actual, Rachel-at-the-end-of-her-rope tears of exhaustion and sadness.

“Oh, shit, what’s wrong baby?” the blonde girl asked, her voice suddenly full of the tenderness and devotion than Rachel had been so desperately missing during these last few irritable weeks of Quinn’s pregnancy. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I’m being obnoxious. I just can’t help it lately…” Quinn hoisted herself off the couch, wrapping her arms around her sobbing girlfriend. Rachel collapsed against her, soaking up the warmth and safety of the blonde girl’s touch like oxygen.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” Rachel sniffled wearily, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve.

“Shh, c’mere,” Quinn hummed, pulling Rachel back to the couch and handing her the tissues from the coffee table.

“Thadks,” Rachel mumbled, pulling out a few and hastily blowing her nose. Quinn stroked her face, then frowned.

“Oh, damn, you’ve got a fever…poor little thing, no wonder you’ve been so cranky all day.”

“I know. I…I lost my voice, Quinn. I made such a fool of myself in glee today…and the doctor wants me to have my tonsils out, but I can’t do that because it could honestly destroy my voice forever, but if the antibiotics don’t work then I’ll have no choice, and I’ll n-never be on Broadway, and…”

“Shhh, baby,” Quinn murmured, pulling Rachel against her so their bodies melded together on the couch. The dark-haired starlet collapsed limply against her girlfriend, letting Quinn’s cool hair graze soothingly against her hot face. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“You shouldn’t be so close to me,” Rachel sniffled, making no move to pull away from the intimate position. “What if I’m contagious? You don’t need to get sick right now. And the baby…”

“Hush, don’t worry about us,” Quinn murmured, running her fingers lightly through Rachel’s long, silky hair. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time, you know. You’ve been taking such good care of me the last few months…and I know I don’t always make it easy.”

“You do make it easy,” Rachel mumbled, her voice growing heavy under the influence of Quinn’s gentle touch. “You’re you…you’re perfect. Dunno why you love me.”

“I love you because you’re you, and you’re perfect,” Quinn replied simply, kissing the top of Rachel’s head. “And I don’t want anyone else taking care of you besides me. Finn can go piss up a flagpole.” Rachel chuckled sleepily.

“I just asked him to take me ‘cause I didn’t wanna bother you…we were fighting…” Rachel’s voice trailed off into a yawn.

“That doesn’t matter, babycakes. Fighting doesn’t count when you’re sick. I mean, if we were fighting and suddenly I went into labor, you’d still drive me to the hospital, right?”

“You need a ride to the hospital?” Rachel mumbled, her voice so groggy it was barely intelligible.

“No, Rach, not right now. Just relax and rest your eyes, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” Rachel agreed absently, with a sleepy sigh. Quinn kept threading her fingers through her girlfriend’s dark hair, and quietly began to sing “Try to Remember” from The Fantasticks. Within two minutes, Rachel was out cold, snoring softly with her face buried in Quinn’s silky blonde tresses. A minute of her soft breathing on Quinn’s neck, and the pregnant girl was out, too.


	14. Faithfully

Everyone was so relieved when Rachel got her voice back just three weeks before regionals, their collective energy level skyrocketed, and their rehearsals became almost electric. Then they almost got derailed again when Puck sang to Quinn in front of everyone, asked her to name the baby Beth, and to let him be there when she was born. Rachel, unsurprisingly, threw a fit and stormed out of rehearsal, leaving the rest of the glee club looking on awkwardly while Quinn chased her down the hall and out into the parking lot.

“Rach, c’mon, give me a break here,” Quinn whined, holding her stomach with one arm. “I can’t exactly run as fast as you right now!” Rachel stopped abruptly, crossed her arms, and turned back to face her pregnant girlfriend with a look that would incinerate mere mortals.

“You aren’t going to be able to play that card much longer,” the dark-haired girl said coldly. “And why are you chasing me, anyway? Puck’s the one you want, apparently. I’d offer to give him my notes from Lamaze class, but he’ll probably just make them into paper airplanes.”

“You’re beyond adorable when you’re jealous, you know,” Quinn smirked, cranking Rachel’s furious glare up several notches. “But you’re so far off, I can’t even believe it. Are you sure you’re not the one with the crazy pregnancy hormones right now?”

“Don’t you dare patronize me, Quinn Cordelia Fabray. I’m perfectly within my rights to be angry when you choose the asshole who got you pregnant over me, your devoted girlfriend, as your birthing partner. Has Puck taken you to a single Lamaze class? Has he read even one pregnancy book? Do you think he’s going to have the slightest idea what do to when your water breaks? I honestly can’t even fathom”—

“Rachel!” Quinn exclaimed, cutting off the furiously babbling brunette mid-sentence and grabbing her by the shoulders to get her attention. “I didn’t choose Puck for anything.” The dark red flush slowly drained from the shorter girl’s face, replaced by a look of cautious confusion.

“Were we both in the same room just now? Because I’m pretty sure…”

“He asked if he could be there when his daughter is born. I said yes. He has that right, Rach…she’s as much his as she is ours. Which is really not at all, because I’m giving her up, but…he has the right to be there. That’s all, just be there. You’re the only one I want holding my hand. You’re the one I need next to me…you’re the one I picked, the one I’ll always pick. Okay?” Rachel just started at Quinn with her wide brown eyes, still stuck on one thing: Quinn had called the baby theirs. 

“Oh, fuck…I’m an idiot,” Rachel groaned, covering her face with her hands. Quinn pulled her close and gently tugged her hands away, kissing the miserable expression right off her girlfriend’s face.

“Yeah, sometimes you are,” Quinn agreed, smiling. “But sometimes I am, so it all works out, karma-wise.” Rachel snorted.

“Oh, like you believe in karma.”

“I do,” Quinn shrugged. Rachel raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not very Christian, is it?”

“No, I guess not,” Quinn agreed, taking Rachel’s hand and tugging her back towards their unfinished glee rehearsal. “But then again, I’m not sure I’m very Christian anymore, either. I dunno. Karma just makes more sense to me than heaven and hell…it means you always have a second chance, you can always make up for the things you’ve done wrong. You can still get somewhere good eventually.” Rachel cocked her head, smiling at the blonde girl’s wistful expression. “What?” Quinn asked, slightly defensively, when she saw Rachel staring at her.

“Nothing. I just love when you remind me how much possibility there is in the world.” Quinn smiled shyly, and Rachel grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her down for a long, slow kiss. They had both forgotten about everything except each other when the sound of enthusiastic hooting and hollering made them realize they were standing right outside the choir room door, where the entire glee club could see them making out through the window. 

Blushing, they broke apart, but kept their hands clasped as they made their hasty return to the room. Rachel left Quinn’s side and approached Puck, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. Puck had the good sense to look slightly afraid. 

“All right, Noah, I have accepted that you will be in the room with us when the baby is born. But let me be perfectly clear—you will not get in my way, and you will not say or do anything to cause Quinn even the slightest distress while she’s in labor, or I will fill your car with poisonous snakes. Understand?”

“Geez, Rachel!” Puck took a step back, wide-eyed, like he thought she might have a few in her pocket ready to toss at him at that very moment if he displeased her. 

“They’ll lay their eggs in the glove compartment,” she continued, eyes narrowed, as if he hadn’t even spoken. “You’ll never know where they are or if you got them all.” The entire room, save Puck and Rachel, burst into hysterical laughter. Quinn ducked behind Mercedes’ shoulder to hide her shit-eating grin. 

“If you two are done vying for the alpha-dog title, can we please get back to rehearsal?” Kurt demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. “If this goes on much longer, we’re going to have to do our vocal warm-ups all over again.”

“Of course, let’s rehearse. I’m sorry, everyone. Where were we?” Rachel asked, going back over to stand beside Quinn at the piano. Mr. Schuester handed out the sheet music for their Journey medley, and they all frowned in confusion for a moment.

“Mr. Schue, I think you mixed up the arrangement in Faithfully,” Finn said, scratching his head. “That’s, like, an octave out of my range.”

“Nope, it’s right,” Mr. Schuester said calmly, his expression all business the way it always was during rehearsal time. “Quinn’s taking the second lead on Faithfully. I moved it up an octave to mezzo-soprano. You’re doing Don’t Stop Believing. And Artie gets Any Way You Want It, with Mercedes.”

“That’s crap!” Finn exclaimed indignantly, but everyone else was grinning at Quinn, who was staring at Mr. Schuester with her mouth half-open. 

“Really?” She asked, dumbfounded. 

“Think you can handle it?” Mr. Schuester asked the shocked blonde girl, ignoring Finn for the moment. 

“Of course she can handle it,” Rachel cut in, beaming. As if she wasn’t already excited enough about regionals, the idea of singing such a beautiful, romantic song with her girlfriend, in front of a thousand people, was making her insides come alive like a flock of hyperactive butterflies on Ritalin. Mr. Schuester was counting on this effect, in fact, to make their performance even more captivating—not that Rachel and Quinn’s harmonies weren’t mesmerizing enough on their own.

“But, Mr. Schue,” Finn whined, only to be cut off by Mercedes.

“Get over yourself, white boy. You got a solo. Did you really expect to get them all? You don’t hear me whining like a little piggy pig, do you?” She jutted her hip and glared at him, and for once, Finn had the decency to look abashed instead of entitled. “That’s what I thought,” Mercedes harrumphed. Finn glowered, looking embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. Rachel and Quinn beamed at each other. Everyone else gathered around the piano so they could start learning the new songs, the drama already forgotten as their excitement for regionals took over. 

“Did you guys know that dolphins are just gay sharks?” Brittney asked brightly. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“…Right down the line it's been you and me…oh girl, I’m forever yours…faithfully…” Rachel sang to herself while she set the table, not even noticing her dad and Quinn entering the kitchen with two large bags of Chinese takeout in their arms. Quinn added her harmony at the end, so they sang the word faithfully together; Rachel turned around beaming, her smile almost too big for her face. 

“In case I haven’t said it enough, you’re gonna knock their socks off tomorrow, girls,” Jacob said, unpacking the takeout as Rachel and Quinn stood grinning at each other. “Rach, will you go tell Daddy that dinner’s ready? Can’t win regionals on an empty stomach.”

“Dad! You’re gonna jinx us!” Rachel squealed, but she did as she was told and went to get Michael from the den. 

“I can’t believe I’m actually hungry, I’m so nervous,” Quinn admitted, sitting down as Rachel and her other dad came back into the kitchen. “And please, spare me any more pregnancy jokes, okay?”

“Too easy,” Rachel shrugged, smiling sweetly as she sat down beside her girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. Quinn turned her head and grabbed Rachel’s face to keep her from pulling away, kissing her properly on the lips for a long moment before Michael cleared his throat, and the two girls broke apart reluctantly. 

“Sorry. Hormones,” Quinn shrugged, not looking particularly sorry at all.

“So in a couple more weeks, you’ll stop wanting to kiss me?” Rachel demanded, putting on a very fake pout and batting her eyelashes dramatically. 

“Ehh, probably,” Quinn deadpanned, with an equally fake expression of disinterest.

“Oh, please, will the two of you stop being cute and eat your egg foo young?” Jacob snorted. It didn’t take much to remind Quinn there was food on the table, and they all busied themselves with dinner, going over all their plans for the next day for the millionth time. At bedtime, Rachel curled up with her head on Quinn’s stomach, explaining to the baby that tomorrow was a very, very big day for mommy, and to please be good and let her get a peaceful night’s sleep. Apparently, little Fabray was already in her first rebellious stage, though, because when Rachel woke up at 3:37am to pee, she found the bed empty beside her. Stumbling downstairs in a groggy stupor, she found Quinn curled up on the couch in front of the TV with a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

“Oh God, are you watching South of Nowhere again?” the dark-haired girl groaned, crawling onto the couch beside her pregnant girlfriend and curling up with her head on Quinn’s shoulder, yawning and blinking sleepily.

“No, I’m watching the other show that’s based on our life,” Quinn said sarcastically, but with no real sting in her voice. 

“This show has absolutely no resemblance to our life, Quinn,” Rachel muttered, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “You just like it cause of all the eye candy.”

“Oh, okay, you’re right. A naïve blonde cheerleader from Ohio who grows up in a strict Christian home”—

“But the show doesn’t take place in Ohio,” Rachel reminded her stubbornly. “It takes place in LA. Which is way too glamorous to in any way reflect our life.”

“Okay, fine, LA. But the blonde Christian cheerleader who falls in love with the beautiful, temperamental dark-haired diva with the amazing voice? Yeah, no, you’re right, that has nothing to do with our life,” Quinn snickered, offering Rachel a spoonful of her ice cream to keep her from pouting.

“Fine,” Rachel sighed, opening her mouth for the ice cream. Quinn fed her and then kissed her, swirling her tongue around the cold, chocolatey treat in Rachel’s mouth. “Mmmm…Quinn-flavored ice cream, yum,” the dark-haired girl sighed, making her girlfriend giggle sleepily. 

“Sorry I woke you, baby,” Quinn yawned, scooping up the last of the ice cream and putting her bowl aside on the table. “I tried to be quiet when I got up…”

“You didn’t wake me, don’t worry. And anyway, it’s not your fault…I believe I already had a conversation with this one about being on her best behavior tonight?” Rachel poked Quinn’s rounded stomach, making the blonde girl giggle again. “Have you had enough ice cream in there now? Because your mamas need sleep if we’re gonna make the entire Midwest regional show choir association swoon tomorrow.” Hearing Rachel refer to the two of them as the baby’s moms made Quinn’s heart thump loudly in her chest, and she pulled Rachel back up for another long, deep kiss, waking them both up more than a little. 

“Shall we go back upstairs?” Quinn asked coyly when she broke away, leaving Rachel with a glazed expression, eyes dark with lust. 

“Hell yeah.” Rachel scrambled to her feet, regionals effectively forgotten for the first time in days as she held out her hand for her girlfriend. They started towards the stairs, when suddenly Rachel stopped so abruptly that Quinn walked into her back. 

“Wait a minute,” the dark-haired girl said anxiously, turning to face the confused blonde. “You really think I’m as temperamental as Ashley Davies?” Quinn groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to get lucky tonight, or do you want to analyze our resemblance to fictional characters?”

“Right. Sorry. Option A, if it’s still available?” 

“Yes, dear, it’s still available…but we’ll have to be quick if we want to be rested for regionals tomorrow. That’s not very romantic, is it?”

“It’s extremely romantic. If we’re going to sing about being faithful to each other, we need lots of practice getting into the proper spirit of the song, Quinn. It’s called method acting.” Rachel smirked triumphantly, letting her fingers trail down between her girlfriend’s thighs. Quinn groaned, feeling her cheeks flush and her skin come alive, like Rachel had just flipped a switch somewhere. It was very hard not to throw the gorgeous dark-haired girl down against the stairs and tear her pajamas off right there.

“Then get upstairs and show me your method,” the blonde girl growled. Grinning delightedly, Rachel grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs.


	15. Regionals

The alarm buzzed at 5am sharp the next morning, waking a very groggy Quinn and Rachel from their already interrupted night’s sleep. Quinn slapped absently at the alarm until the annoying buzzing stopped, and rolled over with a groan. She was expecting Rachel to spring out of bed with her usual early-morning energy, inflated even more by the knowledge that today was the day the future of glee club would be determined. But instead, the dark-haired girl raised her head slowly, looking up at her girlfriend with a warm, sleepy, slightly confused expression in her deep brown eyes. Then, without warning, she started to cry.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Quinn murmured, snuggling up to the sniffling girl and nuzzling her hair, still mostly asleep. “You’re not nervous about today, are you? …Gonna be so amazing, Rach…”

“No,” Rachel whispered, pressing her face into Quinn’s neck so the blonde girl could feel her hot tears. It was unnerving to hear a one-word response from Rachel, even when she’d just woken up.

“Did you have a bad dream?” the pregnant girl nudged, running her fingers absently through Rachel’s long, silky hair.

“No.” Quinn waited, but Rachel didn’t elaborate.

“You gonna make me play 20 questions at 5am, babe?”

“It was…a good dream,” Rachel sniffled softly, pulling back from Quinn’s warm arms to wipe her eyes, which she kept averted, like she didn’t want to make eye contact. “It was just sad to wake up.”

“Aw, sweet girl…what did you dream?” Quinn tucked a lock of Rachel’s hair back, lightly kissing her forehead. The dark-haired girl glanced up, then quickly looked back down again.

“I don’t think I should tell you,” she murmured. Quinn’s heart began to pound anxiously, her early-morning stupor melting away and leaving her 100% awake.

“Were you…dreaming about Finn or something?” the pregnant girl asked meekly, steeling herself for Rachel’s tearful confession of who she really wanted to be with.

“What? No!” Rachel squealed, finally looking up at Quinn with a horribly offended expression in her teary eyes. “Jesus, Quinn, after everything we’ve been through in the last few months, you still think I’d rather have him?” She looked more like herself now that she was kind of pissed off.

“Well, no, I don’t go around thinking it in general,” Quinn said defensively, more bewildered than ever. “But, I mean, when you wake up crying and won’t tell me why…what else can I think?” Rachel blinked at Quinn’s anxious expression, sighed, and looked down at her hands again.

“Okay…listen. I guess I need to tell you this…I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. And I know it’s not up to me, and I will still support you no matter what you decide, but…Quinn, I…I want to keep the baby. I mean, I want you to keep it. I mean, I want us to keep it.” After a full minute of silence passed, Rachel finally looked up. Quinn was staring at her with a blank, shell-shocked expression. “Quinn? Please say something.” Rachel bit her lip anxiously.

“Fuck you.” Quinn threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, stalking from Rachel’s bedroom with cold fury lacing her every movement.

“Quinn…” Rachel began, following her out into the hall, only to stop short when the blonde girl wheeled around to face her with the most anguished expression Rachel had ever seen.

“What do you want me to say, Rach? Do you think I haven’t already spent the last eight and a half months trying to imagine a way to make it work, that wouldn't ruin all our lives? Do you think you’re doing me any good right now by throwing more guilt on the fire? Do you think you could’ve picked a worse time to bring this up?! Fuck!!!” Quinn was crying now, hot, angry tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered, wiping furiously at her own tears that welled up again as soon as she saw Quinn’s. “I d-didn’t mean to upset you…I was j-just trying to be honest…”

“That’s great, Rach, let’s be honest. You want to be a mommy at sixteen? You think we can be a cute little family, both still graduate from high school, and have a real chance at doing anything else with our lives? Well I honestly can’t take that chance, because in six months or eight months or a year from now, when you realize how much you’ve given up and what a huge mistake it was, you can just walk away. I can’t.” Rachel just stared at Quinn, feeling her heart break apart in her chest.

“I can’t believe you actually think I’d do that to you,” the dark-haired girl whispered, no longer bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down her face.

“I can’t believe you’re so sure it could never happen,” Quinn replied acidly, a glint of the old, vindictive, queen-bee Quinn flashing in her hazel eyes. “Now will you please excuse me, I have to go get dressed so we can sing to the whole goddam world about how in love we are.” With that, the blonde girl turned and stomped into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Rachel sat down right there in the hallway in her pajamas, put her face in her hands, and sobbed. After a minute, her dads’ bedroom door opened, and she felt their warm hands on her shoulders.

“Honey, you need to pull yourself together,” Jacob said quietly. “I know you just had a big fight, but I also know that today is a really, really important day for you, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you give up and throw in the towel now. The show must go on, right?” Rachel sniffed, wiped her eyes, and looked up at her dads, seeing all their love for her and all their belief in her, right there for the taking. And she knew, suddenly, that Quinn was right—they probably weren’t ready to be parents at sixteen, and it wouldn’t be right to make that gamble with the life and future of an innocent baby. Not to mention, torpedoing their own dreams…Broadway, travel, building a real life together; one that had a fighting chance. Quinn wasn’t saying no to her, not really—she was just saying she wasn’t ready for it yet. And it still hurt, giving the baby up; but Rachel knew that it was hurting Quinn even more.

“Right,” she sighed, standing up shakily. She went back to her room and got dressed in her shiny black and gold dress, giving Quinn space to recover from the fight though she wanted nothing more than to bang down the door to her girlfriend’s room and beg her forgiveness. She was ready and waiting in the kitchen before the pregnant girl came down, jumping up from her seat the second she heard Quinn’s light footsteps on the stairs.

“Hey,” Quinn said quietly, her voice sounding sad and hollow as she came into view, looking, Rachel thought, completely stunning in her black and gold dress that matched Rachel’s own, and made it almost impossible to tell she was even pregnant. 

“I’m sorry,” Rachel replied simply, standing perfectly still as if rooted to the spot. Quinn’s eyes filled with tears again, and she looked up at the ceiling to try to keep them from falling, taking a few deep breaths.

“Rach, I don’t think I have it in me to have this conversation right now…let’s save it till after regionals, okay?”

“But…you still love me, right?” Rachel asked in a choked whisper. Quinn let out a breath and closed her eyes. A tear spilled over, streaking down her face. Then she blinked, and crossed the room to where the dark-haired girl stood, taking her face firmly in both hands and kissing her hard. Rachel made a small, soft noise in the back of her throat.

“I still love you,” Quinn whispered rather fiercely when she pulled away. "Will you still sing with me?" Rachel blinked dazedly. A small smile crept across her face.

"Try and stop me." 

They were mostly back to being nervous about regionals by the time they met up with the rest of the glee club in the McKinley parking lot to board the bus; Rachel's dads would join them later, along with the rest of the parents, when it was actually time to perform. The energy on the bus was electric; they sang almost every song they'd ever performed on the long ride to Columbus, from "Somebody to Love" to "Bust a Move," "Jump," "Bad Romance," and "Like a Prayer." The baby kicked a lot when Quinn sang, which the blonde girl figured was more due to her growing excitement and pounding heart than her voice-- next to Rachel, she didn't feel particularly special in that department. But it didn't matter; they were all here together, ready to take the stage and give the performance they'd all worked so hard to reach. The fact that her own parents wouldn't be there to see it gave the pregnant girl only a small pang.

When the piled off the bus at the auditorium of Ohio State, they were singing "My Life Would Suck Without You," and Rachel was beaming at Quinn like the fight this morning had never happened. They all followed Mr. Schue toward the check-in table inside the lobby, except for Quinn, who had to pee again and left the group to find the nearest bathroom asap. The University’s facilities were large and labyrinthine, and the blonde girl wandered the halls with increasing urgency.

“Will you please stop kicking my bladder?” She murmured to the baby, one hand absently rubbing her stomach, as she looked up with a sigh of relief, seeing a sign for the women’s bathroom. A second later, her relief belly-flopped into shock when the bathroom door opened, and her mother walked out.

They started at each other in stunned silence for a moment; then a tentative smile broke over the older Fabray’s face. “Quinnie,” she said anxiously, rushing up to her daughter and reaching out as if to hug her; then falling back uncertainly. “You’re here. I was worried I might be too late.”

“What are you doing here?” Quinn gaped, unable to form a more coherent sentence. 

“I came to hear you sing,” Mrs. Fabray said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m so sorry I missed all the other times. Were there a lot?” Quinn opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. “Honey, I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you. You were right about Daddy…and me…I was afraid of him. But not anymore. I told him I wanted to bring you home, and when he refused, I kicked him out of the house. I’m leaving him—and I want you to come home, baby. We can make your sister’s old room into a nursery…”

Quinn stood there, stunned, still not saying a word. “Quinn? Please say something, sweetheart.” 

“My water just broke,” Quinn squeaked.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Hey, where have you”—Rachel’s question died in her throat when she saw Quinn rushing into the green room, her mother’s arm around her shoulders and a panic-stricken expression in her hazel eyes. 

“Rach, I’m so sorry,” Quinn whimpered, and before Rachel could ask her what she was sorry for, the blonde girl gasped in pain and doubled over, both hands holding her stomach. Rachel’s dark brown eyes widened in realization, and she ran to Quinn’s side, all other concerns instantly forgotten.

“Oh my God, now? How far apart are the contractions? We have to find the nearest hospital!” Rachel whipped her phone out of her pocket and google-searched the location of the nearest hospital to Ohio State University with a birthing center, while the rest of the glee club slowly cottoned on and gathered around them.

“Finn, can you sing my part? We can just drop it down an octave, it isn’t too late to change the sheet music for Brad,” Quinn panted, gripping her mother’s hand tightly as the contraction ended and the pain slowly drained away—for now. 

“Uhhh…” Finn mumbled awkwardly, glancing between Quinn, her mother, and Rachel, who was giving him a don’t even think about it look that was so furious, he actually took a step back.

“Quinn, don’t be stupid, I’m not performing without you. We have to go to the hospital!”

“But Rach, you have to…if we don’t place at regionals”—

“I don’t give a fuck about regionals!” Rachel yelled, making the rest of the club exchange incredulous looks while Quinn just raised her eyebrow at her girlfriend expectantly. “Okay, I do give a fuck, but not compared to this! You’re in labor! No way am I going on stage now. The rest of the club can do what they want, but I’m coming with you, so don’t try to stop me.” Quinn smiled for a second, then another contraction hit, and she cried out in pain, leaning into her mother’s arm to keep from falling.

“We’re all with you, Q,” Mercedes said, looking around at the group for validation. There was a chorus of “yeah” and “let’s go!” from the others. Rachel noticed that Finn was still sulking in the corner, but frankly she didn’t care what he did anymore. Puck was on Quinn’s other side now, helping her toward the door while her mother ran ahead to pull the car around, and Mr. Schue ran to get the bus, promising Quinn that they’d all be right behind her.

“You guys don’t have to do this,” Quinn shook her head, tears beginning to well up in her eyes as the terror of what was about to happen set in. “I’m so sorry, I’m really so”—

“Give it up, Q, we’re all coming, so just live with it,” Santana said brusquely, leading an equally anxious-looking Brittney by the hand. They were all crowded around Quinn in a small mob now, so that the throng of people milling around them in the auditorium was forced to part quickly as they approached the exit. “We’re a team. And, anyway, there’s not much point in getting on stage without Berry. Hey, you think there’s ever been a show choir performance for a baby being born before?” Quinn smiled weakly, her heart welling up with love for the friends surrounding her.

“All right, enough talk! Keep it moving, people,” Rachel ordered, wrapping her arm more securely around Quinn’s back and steering her forcibly toward the door. “The hospital is fifteen miles away and we’re in an unfamiliar location. There are any number of unknown factors at work, and furthermore, the contractions are only four minutes apart.” No one was stupid enough to argue with the fiery little brunette while she was ranting, and soon they were all racing toward the hospital at break-neck speeds. Quinn, Rachel and Puck went in Mrs. Fabray’s car, Rachel in the back seat with Quinn, helping her remember her Lamaze breathing, while Puck sat in front next to Quinn’s mother, trying not to look her in the eye because he couldn’t think of anything to say other than “Sorry I knocked your daughter up,” which didn’t seem very helpful.

Quinn’s face was gleaming with sweat by the time they arrived at the hospital, a noisy mass of bodies rushing into the emergency room entrance with the blonde girl hunched over in a wheelchair at the front, and Rachel and Mrs. Fabray terrifying every nurse within shouting distance into immediate submission. Within moments, Quinn was rushed off to a delivery room, along with her mom, Rachel and Puck. The rest of the glee club stood awkwardly around the waiting room for a minute, looking at each other with a well what now expression passing among them. They noticed a few glances being thrown their way; not only had they made quite an entrance, but they were all still dressed in their black and gold regionals costumes.

“So, uh, it takes a pretty long time for a baby to be born, right?” Finn asked finally, scratching his head.

“Yes, tiger, it’s going to be a bit of a wait,” Kurt grinned faintly, winking at his quasi-step-brother. 

“What should we do while we’re waiting?” Tina asked, catching Mercedes’ eye, who grinned cheekily at her.

“Well, we are all ready to perform,” Artie shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose with a purposeful glance around at them all. 

“But we can’t do the Journey medley without Rachel and Quinn,” Mike piped up, surprising everyone—they usually never heard him speak unless he was singing. 

“So? We’re not at regionals now—we can sing whatever we want.”

“What if we get in trouble? This is a hospital,” Tina squeaked. 

“Girl, please. These people need some glee,” Mercedes shrugged, smirking, and they all silently formed a semi-circle around her, Finn reluctantly joining last. They hummed together to find the right pitch, grinned at each other, and burst into song.

In the delivery room, Quinn was screaming. Sweat poured off her face, drenching the thin hospital gown, indistinguishable from the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mom, it hurts,” she sobbed, squeezing Rachel’s fingers tightly as waves of pain stabbed at her body. “It hurts so bad!”

“I know sweetheart, you’re doing great,” her mother encouraged her, smoothing back Quinn’s sweat-soaked hair from her face and raising an expectant eyebrow at Rachel, standing on the other side of the bed. 

“Yes you are,” Rachel agreed fervently, relieved that Quinn’s mom wasn’t trying to throw her out of the room, and perfectly willing to wait till later for whatever conversation was coming about where Quinn would live now that her mom was back in the picture. The dark-haired girl hated the idea of her girlfriend moving out, but she couldn’t afford to think about that now. 

“Just remember what we learned,” Rachel cooed soothingly, mimicking the slow, timed breaths that they had practiced together in Lamaze class, until Quinn’s ragged panting eased and eventually matched Rachel’s breaths. Mrs. Fabray offered her daughter some ice chips; Puck just stood at the foot of the bed looking terrified and useless. 

“All right, Quinn, everything’s looking good here; you’re progressing very quickly,” the doctor said when he strode casually in, not even looking directly at the girl on the bed. His eyes were only on the electronic readouts and the chart by her bed. “Do you want anything for the pain?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Fabray said immediately.

“No,” Quinn growled, looking to Rachel for assurance. The dark-haired girl gulped, feeling a lot less sure about their no-drugs birth plan now than she had when they’d discussed it in the calm, pain-free environment of the birthing class. But Quinn’s hazel eyes were determined. Rachel smiled bravely, and nodded.

“All right, if you’re sure. But I have to advise you that the window of opportunity for an epidural is closing—once active labor begins, it will be too late.”

“I don’t want any drugs!” Quinn snarled, blinking sweat out of her eyes. Rachel took a clean cloth from the shelf and wiped off her girlfriend’s flushed face. Puck continued to stand there slack-jawed. 

“It’s okay, angel face,” Rachel crooned, holding Quinn’s hand as another contraction hit, and her back arched, a convulsive scream ripping through her. 

“Aghhh! I fucking hate you, Puck!!!” She shrieked, reminding the rest of them that the mohawked boy was actually still in the room. Rachel and Mrs. Fabray both threw him a very dirty look, and he took a step back, looking around like he wanted to hide somewhere. 

“Mom, how much longer is this going to last?” Quinn sobbed, collapsing back against the pillows when the contraction ended. 

“I don’t know, Quinnie, but you’re doing wonderfully. Isn’t she, Rachel?” It was the first time that Mrs. Fabray had addressed the dark-haired girl directly, and it made Rachel’s heart hammer in a completely different way than Quinn’s anguished screaming had done.

“Of course she is,” Rachel agreed, feeling like she might throw up at any second. Judy Fabray smiled and nodded over her daughter’s head, and Rachel felt her heart unclench slightly. She was still wary of the woman pulling a Jesus intervention on them, like Quinn’s sister had tried to do; but for now it seemed that they were on the same side.

“Oh, God, we forgot to call the agency!” Quinn gasped suddenly, looking to Rachel. “They need to tell Jack and Rob to come to Columbus—they’re expecting us to be in Lima!”

“It’s okay sunshine, I already called them,” Rachel assured her, wiping the damp cloth across Quinn’s forehead again. “They’re on their way, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything right now.”

“Who are Jack and Rob?” Quinn’s mom asked, looking perplexed. Rachel glanced nervously at her girlfriend, wondering if the peace between her and Judy Fabray was about to end horribly. She wished her dads were here, and not racing toward them on the highway, at least 3 hours away.

“The couple adopting the baby,” Quinn panted, apparently in too much pain to be worried about pissing her mom off. Rachel watched the older Fabray’s eyes go from perplexed, to shocked understanding. But, to her credit, she apparently decided that she wasn’t going to argue about gay adoption with her daughter in this much pain, and simply nodded, tight-lipped, and squeezed her hand again.

Two hours and countless screams and sobs later, the doctor returned, and told Quinn it was time to push. The blonde girl was trembling from head to foot, but she nodded, taking Rachel’s hand on one side and her mom’s on the other, with Puck still standing like an awkward statue at the foot of the bed. He snuck a peek between Quinn’s legs, and got a glimpse of the baby’s head crowning, covering in blood and goo, and resolved right then and there that he was never having unprotected sex again.

“She’s coming! Push, Quinn!” The doctor urged.

“Oh God, I can’t,” Quinn sobbed, squeezing Rachel’s hand so hard the dark-haired girl felt a bolt of pain shoot all the way up her arm; but she didn’t make a sound. “I changed my mind—I want the drugs, please!”

“It’s too late for that now,” the doctor said, patting her leg patronizingly with an expression that said ditzy teenagers never listen as he consulted the beeping instruments around Quinn’s bed. “You’re almost done, Quinn, you can do it. Now push!”

“I can’t,” Quinn sobbed, gasping for breath, her Lamaze breathing completely forgotten. “Rachel, please,” she begged. The dark-haired diva felt her stomach turn over and tie in a triple-loop knot as she looked down into her girlfriend’s anguished hazel eyes. She knew they couldn’t give Quinn the drugs now…threatening the doctor with the ACLU at this stage would be completely pointless. But Quinn was looking to her—not her own mother, not the doctor, but her—to make it okay, and Rachel felt the need to protect the angel lying on the table beneath her welling up in her like an ocean, heart pounding fiercely in her chest.

“You can do it, baby, I’m right here, I’ve got you. We’re not gonna let anything bad happen to you, I swear—but I need you to push, angel. You can do it. Push!”

Quinn’s screams filled the room, her back arching all the way off the bed as her entire body tensed with the effort of pushing her baby out into the world. Then, just like that, they were all staring at a squalling, blood-covered infant in the doctor’s arms.

“Is she okay?” Quinn murmured weakly, too spent to even lift her head off the pillow to see her baby. In answer, the tiny body was placed in Quinn’s arms, and she beamed at the small hazel eyes blinking back into her own. “Hi,” she whispered, staring transfixed at her baby for a long, endless moment. No one else spoke. Rachel felt her heart breaking all over again. Then Quinn tore her eyes away from the baby’s, looking up into the dark eyes fixed adoringly on her own.

“I love you,” the blonde girl whispered brokenly, with an exhausted, watery smile.

“I love you too baby,” Rachel sniffled, leaning down to cover Quinn’s face with kisses, not even caring that a room full of people—including Quinn’s mother—were watching. “You were so brave and amazing…” In the back of her mind, Rachel was aware of a wet dripping sound, like a leaky faucet, somewhere close by. She pulled back from Quinn’s warm lips, and glanced at the floor below the bed, where a pool of dark red blood was collecting. Rachel’s stomach turned to ice.

“Uh…doctor?” She squeaked, trying to stay calm for Quinn’s sake as she pointed to the pool of blood. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“There was a bit of tearing, but you’re going to be fine, Quinn. As soon as you pass the afterbirth, we’ll have to stitch you up a bit, and you’ll need a small blood transfusion, but I don’t want you to worry. This is very common for a rapid delivery such as yours, and there doesn’t seem to be any internal damage; you should heal just fine.”

“Rapid?” Quinn squeaked incredulously. “We’ve been here over four hours!”

“I was in labor with you for sixteen hours, honey,” Mrs. Fabray said, while the amused nurse took the baby from Quinn’s arms to be swaddled and taken to the nursery. Quinn didn’t say anything when the baby was taken out of her arms, but she closed her eyes, and everyone else fell uncomfortably silent.

“Mom…Puck…can you go tell everyone it’s over?” she asked finally. When everyone was gone except for Rachel, Quinn looked up at her with a heartbroken expression. Rachel leaned over the bed and wrapped her arms gently around her girlfriend, holding her tightly without saying a word. 

“Someday,” Quinn whispered sadly when Rachel finally pulled back, beaming down at the weary blonde girl like she was the center of the universe. Rachel nodded, feeling a lump lodge in her throat. Someday, they’d be back here, on their own terms. When they were ready. They had all the time in the world. 

“Someday,” Rachel agreed, smoothing a sweat-soaked lock of blonde hair back from Quinn’s pale face. Then she leaned down on her elbows, pressing their lips together in a kiss so full of tenderness and devotion, the rest of the world disappeared. “I love you,” Rachel whispered against Quinn’s lips, then climbed over the guard rail and curled up next to her exhausted girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her waist and nuzzling her hair. “I love you, I love you…” Quinn sighed and closed her eyes, totally spent. When the nurse came back to stitch Quinn up, she tried to make Rachel leave, but the dark-haired girl had already memorized a medical-rights oriented version of her ACLU speech and didn’t budge. As soon as they’d finished patching her up, Quinn fell fast asleep in Rachel’s arms; and after a few groggy minutes of rubbing Quinn’s bellybutton, Rachel followed her exhausted girlfriend into oblivion.


	16. Coming Back to Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the chaps that has a tiny piece of unintentional, psychic foreshadowing. Points if you spot it! I'll give you a hint: Kurt's mentor at Vogue in S4 (or was it S5? Lol it was NYC, whatever! Way after I wrote this).

“Is Quinn coming back to school soon?” 

“I don’t know, Brittany,” Rachel sighed, not bothering to lift her eyes from her absentminded doodling on her notebook. She wasn’t touching her lunch, spread out on the table in front of her.

“She won’t answer your calls either, huh?” the blonde girl asked compassionately, patting Rachel’s shoulder like she was a sad, brown-eyed puppy. Rachel just shook her head silently, the familiar sting of tears welling up in her eyes. In the week since Quinn left the hospital and moved back in with her mom, she hadn’t answered a single one of Rachel’s calls, emails, or texts. 

“Oh, Rachel, don’t cry,” Brittany begged, wrapping an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders and squeezing her like an oversized stuffed animal. “She’ll come back soon, I know she will. I mean, it’s not like she’s gonna drop out of high school or anything, right? She’ll have to come back for finals, at least, and…” Rachel tuned out the Cheerio’s well-meaning babble, wiping the tears hastily from her cheeks and plastering a fake smile across her face that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“I have to go,” the little starlet sighed abruptly, lurching up from her seat with her uneaten lunch still on the table, and trudging mechanically from the room. Brittany watched her go, pouting at the other girl’s inattention. How was she supposed to cheer Rachel up when she wouldn’t listen?

“What are you pouting about, little duck?” Santana asked, plopping down in Rachel’s newly vacated seat and helping herself to the other girl’s abandoned hummus wrap and fruit salad. 

“Rachel. And Quinn. They’re both so sad, and I don’t know how to help.”

“Aww, B, that’s not your problem,” Santana shrugged disinterestedly. “They’ve got each other to lean on, they don’t need us.”

“That’s not true, San,” Brittany shook her head dejectedly. “Quinn isn’t returning anyone’s phone calls, not even Rachel’s. She’s all holed up by herself at her mom’s, and she must be sad and lonely; and Rachel’s acting like a robot. They do need us. We should have, like, a sleepover party together or something.” Santana snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“That sounds like the most awkward double-date idea you’ve ever come up with, B. No offense.” Brittany scowled and crossed her arms, turning away from Santana at the cafeteria table. Santana groaned, and hastily backpedaled. “What I mean is—um—Quinn’s probably not ready for anything too heavy yet…she needs goofy fun group time, not serious couples’ time. The sleepover is a good idea, but, um…” Santana winced internally, hating the suggestion she was about to make, but seeing no way around it. “We should invite all the girls from glee. Make it a glee club girls’ night.”

“San, that’s such a great idea!” Brittany squealed happily, her pouting immediately forgotten as she clapped her hands and bounced in her seat. Santana smiled wryly, unable to keep up her tough girl sneer when Britt was smiling at her like an overexcited puppy. “Girls’ night! Wow, yeah. We can still invite Kurt, though, right?”

“Of course,” Santana snorted, rolling her eyes until Brittany kissed the irritable expression right off her face.

……………………………………………………………………………….

The next day was Friday, and Quinn was curled up in a lump in the middle of her bed just like she had been all week, alternating between sleeping, watching old musicals on her laptop, and crying until her head throbbed. There were so many feelings gripping her sore, abused body, she couldn’t even begin to sort them all out…and being suddenly ripped from the home she’d known for the last five months hadn’t helped, either. She missed her girlfriend so much, it felt like a physical wound, like someone was stabbing her in the chest with a rusty, jagged knife. Yet she couldn’t reach out to Rachel, either, no matter how much she wanted to…every time the phone rang, and she saw Rachel’s name and number light up on the screen, her heart thudded with longing. But she was paralyzed with sadness, and the longer she went without answering, the guiltier she felt, and she just got stuck deeper and deeper in her pit of melancholy. She wanted Rachel to just show up and crawl into her bed, cuddle up to her and kiss her and tell her it was all okay. 

Her mom tried to help; but they’d been alienated for so long, they were like strangers now, and the frigid politeness that had always held sway over the Fabray house had settled back into their lives as soon as Quinn walked back through the front door. Judy fed her and knocked on her door a few times every day to ask if she felt all right and if she wanted anything, but that was all. Quinn wanted to cry on her mom’s shoulder, wanted to be hugged and held and reassured, but she just felt so isolated now, she didn’t know how to ask. She was trapped in an icy island of loneliness, and she was too tired and sad to find her way out.

She was crying quietly and hugging her old stuffed donkey, Charlie, when her bedroom door sprang open and bounced off the opposite wall. Her mom never opened doors that forcefully, and Quinn looked up in surprise, jolted out of her tears. Kurt was standing in her doorway, wearing enormous, glittery pink sunglasses and a matching dark pink silk smoking jacket. 

“Honey, it’s time to come back to the world of the living,” he announced, strutting in and throwing open the curtains, dazzling Quinn’s eyes with sunlight for the first time all week. When the glare faded, Quinn realized that Kurt wasn’t the only newcomer to her bedroom—Brittany, Santana, Tina, Mercedes and Rachel were all there too, smiling anxiously at her. 

“What’s going on?” Quinn asked croakily, wincing at the rough sound of her voice. When had that happened? When was the last time she’d even spoken aloud? She rubbed her eyes blearily and sat up in bed.

“It’s an intervention, Q. We know you’re going through some rough shit right now, but holing up in here like a bear in winter isn’t gonna help you feel better.” Santana plunked a bag of groceries down at the foot of Quinn’s bed as she spoke, rooting around with an expression of deep concentration.

“We’re having a glee girls’ night!” Brittany squealed excitedly, bouncing on the bed beside her. 

“Oh…you guys, I don’t know about this…” Quinn sighed, looking to Rachel to gauge her reaction. She was still scared that her girlfriend would be mad at her for icing her out all week…and knowing Rachel, with her penchant for dramatics, she might be in for a serious screaming match right now. Not that she didn’t think she deserved it, but she didn’t want it to happen in front of everyone. More importantly, she still felt broken inside…and she wasn’t sure she could fake smiles all night long.

“You don’t have to do anything, Quinn,” Rachel said quietly, twisting her fingers together nervously. She didn’t jump on the bed like Britt and Santana. “Just let us hang out with you tonight, okay? What’s the worst that could happen?” Quinn sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted Rachel’s arms around her so, so badly…but it didn’t look like the dark-haired girl wanted to be close to her right now. Still, at least she was here; and she was asking to stay. They all were.

“’Kay,” Quinn nodded, with a wobbly smile, as a few tears slid down her face. Brittany hugged her, but Quinn kept her eyes on Rachel, who was smiling tentatively back at her from across the room.

“Well, ladies, what shall we do first?” Kurt asked, seating himself neatly in Quinn’s desk chair and crossing his legs as he began unpacking his overnight bag. “We’ve got makeovers, 80’s movies, and magazine quizzes.”

“Screw that, we’ve got booze,” Santana announced, pulling a large bottle of vodka out of her bag and wiggling her eyebrows fiendishly.

“San, are you crazy?!” Quinn gasped, leaping out of bed in shock. “My mom is, like, right down the hall!”

“Actually, she’s not,” Santana smirked. “She agreed with us that you needed some serious cheering up, and she also agreed to spend the night at your Aunt Bonnie’s so we can get the job done right.” The Latina girl winked at Quinn’s flabbergasted expression, pulling out a half-dozen plastic cups and beginning to fill them. “We got you covered, mija.”

“Okay, fine, but still…have you forgotten what happened the last time I got drunk?” Quinn was getting agitated now, which only seemed to please Santana, who snorted with laughter. But it was Kurt who answered.

“I promise not to get you pregnant, Quinn,” he joked, and they all cracked up laughing. Then, surprisingly, Tina took the first cup and gulped it down, grinning shyly. 

“What?” she demanded when she noticed them all staring at her. “If I get drunk trying to cheer Quinn up, it doesn’t count!”

The rest of them all took a cup then, still giggling, and Kurt put in his DVD of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and started rhapsodizing about Sarah Jessica Parker, while Mercedes opened her bag and began pulling out supplies for pedicures. Rachel announced loudly that she was going to the ladies’ room, then glanced shyly at Quinn over her shoulder on the way out. Quinn felt her stomach jolt nervously, and waited approximately fifteen seconds before following Rachel out into the hallway. 

“Rach, I”—but Quinn’s awkward apology died in her throat when her girlfriend grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, kissing her like her lips were made of chocolate. They both whimpered, arms slipping quickly into familiar and unfamiliar places—they’d never really kissed like this before, pressed flat against each other, without Quinn’s baby bump between them. Then Rachel pushed her leg between Quinn’s, and the blonde girl hissed in pain. Rachel squealed and jumped back.

“Oh my God, I forgot about your stitches—oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to”—

“It’s okay,” Quinn panted, grabbing the smaller girl around the hips and pulling her close again, leaning her forehead against Rachel’s. “Please, please just keep your hands on me, Rach…please don’t go anywhere…”

“I’m right here, angel,” Rachel murmured, reaching up to thread her fingers through Quinn’s blonde hair, gentling massaging her scalp. “Oh, Quinn, I missed you so much…”

“I missed you too,” Quinn sobbed, lifting her head to cover Rachel’s face with kisses. “I’m sorry I never answered my phone, I’m sorry I was so broken…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Rachel murmured, her hands running aimlessly up Quinn’s sides, like she was afraid the blonde girl would just disappear if she stopped touching her. “It’s okay, it’s okay to be sad…I just wanted to be here for you, and I didn’t know how, and I was scared you didn’t want me anymore…”

“I’ll never not want you,” Quinn whispered, pulling Rachel’s face back to hers for another long, deep kiss, both of them feeling calm and whole and peaceful for the first time all week.

“Ahem.” Rachel reluctantly pulled her lips back from Quinn’s at the sound of someone’s impatient throat-clearing, and both girls turned to see Kurt leaning in the doorway, one eyebrow raised at their slightly compromised position. “Miss Manners would hardly approve of the hostess ditching her party guests to make out with her girlfriend in the hall.”

“And what would Miss Manners say about guests who invite themselves over and try to get the hostess drunk on illicit booze?” Quinn asked pointedly, failing to completely hide the smirk that was slowly appearing on her face as Rachel’s hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, playing teasingly over her hip.

“I think she’d say they were doing an excellent job as long as they used coasters.” Quinn and Rachel giggled as they followed Kurt back into the bedroom, where Tina was choosing a new nail polish color from Mercedes’ collection, and Brittney and Santana were doing body shots on Quinn’s bed.


	17. Not So New Beginnings

“Well well, check out the fabulous cheerleader who just walked into our kitchen,” Rachel’s dad drawled, abandoning the breakfast dishes to waltz over to Quinn and twirl her around. Quinn giggled, smiling at her two surrogate dads as they fussed over her. Her own mom had barely acknowledged her return to the Cheerios, or her first day of school, before she’d left the house. “Wait till Rachel sees you in this, blondie. She’s gonna pop a gasket.” Jacob winked, and Quinn blushed and looked at the floor.

“Stop it, babe, you’re embarrassing the poor girl,” Michael scolded his husband, snapping his butt with the dishtowel. “You do look lovely, Quinnie.”

“Um, thanks…but, actually, Rachel’s seen me in this outfit lots of times.” Back when I used to make a hobby of making her life miserable, she added silently, feeling her insides squirm uncomfortably. “Is she, um, ready for school?”

“Her highness hasn’t emerged from the royal bedroom yet. Go on up, sweetie—maybe you can hustle her along,” Michael offered. Quinn nodded and padded up the stairs to the familiar room at the end of the hall.

…………………………………………………………………………

“For the last time, Rach, your hair looks great. It’s completely adorable, and totally hot. What more do you want?” Quinn growled, crossing her arms over her red and white Cheerios top and tapping her foot impatiently. “We’re gonna be late for school!” Rachel continued to frown at her reflection, fussing with her new bangs in the mirror.

“But…do I look hot enough to be the head cheerleader’s girlfriend?” she asked anxiously. Quinn’s eyebrows shot up disbelievingly.

“Oh…that’s what this is about?” Quinn’s annoyed expression softened, and she crossed the room to where Rachel stood at her dresser, pulling the smaller girl into her arms and kissing her soundly. The little diva sighed dreamily. Then the blonde girl pulled away to press her mouth right up to Rachel’s ear. “You’ve always been hot enough for that,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, before nibbling lightly on her girlfriend’s earlobe. Rachel’s breath caught loudly in the back of her throat. 

“You…you really think so?” She squeaked, drawing back with an anxious expression in her wide brown eyes. Quinn sighed in consternation.

“Remember how insecure I used to get when I was pregnant…and you’d tell me over and over that I was the most beautiful girl in the world, but I never really believed you?”

“Yes,” Rachel nodded.

“Well, now I get how insanely frustrating that must have been for you,” Quinn growled low in her throat, and Rachel giggled. “You don’t need to do anything different, Rach. You’re already so beautiful, it hurts.” Quinn wound a lock of Rachel’s dark hair around her finger, smiling a little shyly. 

“Aww, Quinn…” Rachel beamed, pulling the taller girl down by the back of her neck for a long, enthusiastic kiss. Quinn’s free hand slipped up Rachel’s cropped sweater, playing teasingly around her bellybutton.

“Ahem.” The two girls broke apart at the sound of Jacob clearing his throat, arms crossed in the doorway. “Good job hurrying her along there, blondie. This is very efficient.” He grinned impishly at the pair of them. Quinn blushed furiously.

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Rachel huffed at her dad, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and pulling her out the door. 

………………………………………………………………………….

“There’s something else bothering you,” Quinn said with a small frown, glancing between the road and Rachel’s still-anxious face as she drove them to school. “It’s me being back on the Cheerios, isn’t it? You’re worried I’ll turn back into the old, mega-bitch head cheerleader.” The blonde girl sighed heavily, the regret plain in her voice.

“No! Quinn, that isn’t…I mean, I don’t…” Rachel stuttered, unable to finish a sentence.

“It’s okay, Rach, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I was awful, and we both know it. I’d do anything to take it all back now…but I can’t.” Quinn bit her lip, glancing across the seat again to gage Rachel’s expression. The dark-haired girl was staring at her with her big, brown Bambi eyes, a look of doubt and uncertainty clouding her face. “But it’s not gonna be that way anymore, baby. Not ever again. Nobody messes with the head cheerleader, right? This is an upgrade for both of us.”

“I don’t know, Quinn…it sounds nice in theory, but I’m just not sure it’s realistic. I mean, when we first got together, we were both outcasts. There was no threat to the whole high school food chain of coolness. Now that you’re back on top…” Rachel bit her lip, and Quinn could see her fighting back tears. It made the blonde girl’s heart clench in her chest. “I just can’t stand the idea of people looking at us and wondering, ‘what’s Quinn Fabray doing with that loser?’”

“You are not a loser, Rachel,” Quinn growled, cutting the engine as they pulled into the McKinley High parking lot and turning to face the smaller girl with a fierce look in her stormy hazel eyes. “You’re gorgeous and talented and smart and funny, and you’re dating the head cheerleader. That makes you, like, the first lady of McKinley High.” Quinn grinned impishly, finally drawing a small smile from the fretful girl in the passenger seat. “Seriously, all you need to worry about now is practicing your Jackie O. wave.” Rachel finally laughed, and Quinn beamed, kissing her on the cheek. 

“All right, all right, I believe you.” Rachel let Quinn open her door for her and loop an arm around her, playing with a lock of her loose, silky hair over her shoulder as they walked toward the school together. They were so caught up in each other, they didn’t notice Santana approaching until she’d knocked Quinn sideways into a row of lockers. Hard.

“Santana! Have you lost your mind?” Rachel shrieked, putting herself between the two Cheerios as Quinn got unsteadily to her feet. A small crowd had already gathered around them in the hall. This was not the entrance Rachel had imagined.

“Out of the way, midget. This is between me and your Queerio.” Santana spat the last word like a plague, causing Rachel and Quinn to glance at each other in confusion. That was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, wasn’t it?

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Quinn snarled, stepping in front of Rachel before the smaller girl could get caught in any more of the crossfire. “What the hell is up, San? Did you eat a pound of crack for breakfast or something?”

“Don’t play stupid, preggo.” Santana shoved Quinn again, but this time the blonde girl was ready, and she didn’t fall. “You know exactly what’s up. You’re back on top, and I’m on the bottom. You told Coach Sylvester about my surgery, didn’t you?” At her words, Quinn and Rachel’s eyes—not to mention the rest of the watching crowd—went straight to the snarling girl’s chest, taking in its new, excessively ample dimensions.

“You…you got a boob job?” Quinn asked, her expression clearly indicating that this was the first she was hearing about it. 

“Yup, sure did,” Santana snarled, and out of nowhere, she smacked Quinn hard across the face.

“Hey!” Rachel shrieked.

“You can’t hit me!” Quinn growled indignantly, pushing Rachel back again as the tiny girl tried to intervene. 

“Oh, sure I can,” Santana laughed nastily, eyes flashing with cold fury. “Unless you got yourself knocked up again, slut. Though I wouldn’t blame you for cheating on the Keebler Elf here,” she nodded maliciously at Rachel. Quinn’s eyes narrowed furiously.

“Just because you’re so insecure you had to go get yourself pumped full of silicone, doesn’t mean the rest of us are gonna play along. Grow up, Santi, and leave me and Rachel the fuck alone till you do.” Trembling with adrenalin, the blonde girl turned on her heel and grabbed Rachel’s hand, pulling her away from the center of the gaping crowd. The little brunette caught Brittany’s eye over Santana’s shoulder before she turned, and the two shared one bewildered glance that clearly said, are we still friends? Then Rachel’s attention was back on Quinn, tilting her face and tenderly feeling the swelling on her cheekbone.

“Ouch! Stop it, Rachel, that hurts!” Quinn snapped, pulling away with angry tears in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, baby. C’mon, let’s go to the nurse’s office and get you an ice pack, okay?” Quinn nodded silently, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand. This was not how she’d imagined her grand re-entrance as McKinley High’s head cheerleader…and despite her anger with Santana, she was also crushed to lose her best friend. She’d had no idea that the other girl had been demoted down to the bottom to make room for her at the top. 

“High school is so fucking stupid,” she sniffed, letting Rachel push her down into a chair and press a cold pack to her face. 

“Yeah,” Rachel nodded, sitting in Quinn’s lap and gently wiping the tear streaks from her face with a tissue from the nurse’s desk. “But you handled that encounter quite admirably, didn’t you? I was very proud of you for not sinking to her level. And for defending me.” Beaming, Rachel leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Quinn’s lips, being careful not to jostle her ice pack. Immediately, she felt the blonde girl’s tense muscles relax under her.

“Well, of course I defended you. If she’d laid a hand on you, Rach, I wouldn’t have been able to just walk away like that. I would’ve gone completely apeshit.” Quinn grinned sheepishly, and Rachel laughed delightedly.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. You’ll talk to her, won’t you? I hate to think of you and Santana being enemies…you won’t have any fun out on the field if you’re always fighting.” Rachel smoothed back a few mussed strands of blonde hair that had escaped Quinn’s ponytail as she spoke. 

“Mm-hmm,” Quinn nodded glumly, adjusting the ice pack slightly against her stinging cheek. Then she glanced up and noticed a pack of gawking football players standing the doorway to the nurse’s office, staring at them like free porn.

“Get lost, pervs,” she snapped, her free hand curling possessively around Rachel’s hip.

“Aww, c’mon Quinn! We just wanna watch you guys play nurse. Don’t you wanna kiss her and make it all better, Berry?” Karovsky wiggled his eyebrows piggishly, while the others wolf-whistled. Rachel blushed furiously, but before she had a chance to say anything, Finn and Puck appeared and pushed their gawking teammates back into the hall, shouting threats at the horny boys, who begrudgingly skulked off. 

“See? We have our own bodyguards now,” Quinn smiled weakly, as Rachel gently re-adjusted the ice pack for her. “How’s it feel being first lady so far?” The little diva sighed, not looking her girlfriend in the eye.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…I think I liked it better when people just ignored us.” Quinn’s face fell. This was not the way either of them had imagined starting their first day of 11th grade.


	18. The View from the Top

  

            Their first glee rehearsal of the year should have been full of excitement and fresh energy, especially after Mr. Schue told them that nationals this year would be held in New York City. Instead, it was tense, fake-polite and awkward, at least for Rachel and Quinn, who sat as far as possible from Santana. It hadn’t taken long for the gossip mill to circulate the story of the Cheerios’ smackdown that morning, and most people’s sympathies seemed to be with Quinn, who did her best to maintain her dignity with a dark purple bruise across the side of her face on the first day of school. Even Brittany seemed to be giving her girlfriend the cold shoulder, sitting between Tina and Mike on one side, and Mercedes and Kurt on the other, stubbornly refusing to make eye contact with Santana. The entire group seemed to sense a disturbance in the force, throwing off their usual easy group dynamic, and Mr. Schue didn’t even bother trying to get Quinn and Santana to work together on their choreography the way they normally would.

            “All right, ladies, this is getting ridiculous,” Kurt huffed at last, tired of getting caught between the two Cheerios’ hostile glares as they tried to learn Empire State of Mind. “Can we please talk about the giant elephant in the room? Santana, just apologize to Quinn for the dramatic display of early-morning violence, and Quinn, say you’re sorry for Coach Sylvester punishing Santana to put you back on top. Then we can all play nice again.” The fair-faced boy crossed his arms over his perfectly pressed shirt and tapped his foot impatiently.

            “Shut it, Fruit Loop, and mind your own business,” Santana snarled.

            “Back off, Brown Barbie,” Mercedes snapped, stepping in front of Kurt in case Santana was getting any more violent impulses. “It’s _all_ our business, a’aight? We can’t be a team if you’re just sitting there waiting to stab us all in the back if we get in your way.”

            “It’s not _everyone_ ,” Santana protested, her face flushing bright red in anger and embarrassment as they all stared at her expectantly.

            “Just your best friend?” Quinn asked coldly. Rachel reached out and squeezed her arm reassuringly. This seemed to incense the furious Latina, and she glanced automatically to Brittany for reassurance. Sure, the blonde girl had been giving her the silent treatment all day; but Santana was certain that when the chips were down, her girl would always have her back. But this time, Brittany crossed her arms and stared determinedly at the floor.

            “Whatever,” Santana spat; but they could all see the tears welling up in her eyes as she stormed out of rehearsal. As soon as she was gone, Brittany started to cry, too, and Rachel crossed the room to hug her.

            “Well that was fun,” Kurt said sarcastically, taking a grey silk Kenneth Cole handkerchief from his breast pocket and offering it to Brittany before sitting down and crossing his legs with a flourish. “I can’t _wait_ for Cheerios practice now.”

 

……………………………………………………………..

 

            The dinner dishes were just being cleared at the Berry house when the doorbell rang, and Michael went to answer it. From the look on his face, Santana knew instantly that he knew who she was and had seen the bruise on Quinn’s cheek. She wasn’t normally intimidated by adults—years of taking abuse from Sue Sylvester had hardened her against most forms of psychological warfare—but the chilly look from the tall, muscular black man made her stand up a little straighter on the welcome matt.

            “Um, hi, Mr. Berry…is Quinn here? I tried her house, but there was no one home.” Santana actually clasped her hands behind her back, an unusually submissive pose for the fiery Latina.

            “That depends,” Michael rumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he appraised the girl in front of him. “Are you here to mess up her face some more? Or maybe you’ve thought about it and decided to go for the knees this time—that’s a much more efficient way to get her spot as head cheerleader, you know.” Santana blanched, clearly unprepared for not one, but _three_ insanely protective Berrys to get past before she could say what she needed to say to Quinn face-to-face. 

            “I’m sorry, okay dude? I just want to tell Quinn that. If you’ll let me in, I mean.” Santana shrugged, looking extremely uncomfortable. Michael blinked at her bemusedly, unused to being addressed as _dude_ by teenage girls. But he could also see the sincerity in her awkwardness—this girl was obviously not used to handing out apologies—so he stood aside and gestured for her to come in.

            Quinn and Rachel both jumped up from their seats at the kitchen table when Santana walked in, homework instantly forgotten. Jacob looked up from the dishes to his husband, and through some silent married-people communication, just nodded and turned off the water, drying his hands on a dishtowel.

            “Well, girls, I think we’ll just be upstairs if you need us,” he said diplomatically, following Michael out of the kitchen and up the stairs. After a moment of awkward silence, Quinn sat down again and folded her hands in her lap, staring at Santana expectantly. Rachel stayed standing, arms crossed like the world’s smallest bodyguard. 

            “So, um…Britt won’t put out until I apologize to you guys for this morning,” Santana said finally, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

            “How touching,” Rachel said sarcastically.

            “Look, I’m sorry!” Santana snapped, finally looking up and making eye contact with the blonde girl sitting at the table. “I really thought you were the one who told Coach Sylvester about my boob job. I was just trying to defend myself!”

            “I’d never stab you in the back like that, Santi,” Quinn shook her head sorrowfully. “You’re my best friend…at least, I thought you were.”

            “Quinn, I’m sorry.” For the first time, Santana actually sounded like she meant it. “I just…I liked being on top. I worked so hard for it, and now to go all the way back to the bottom…”

            “I know, San. _Believe_ me, I know. I swear I never wanted that to happen to either of us.” Quinn stood tentatively, and put out a hand, squeezing her friend’s shoulder sympathetically. Unexpectedly, Santana burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. Quinn and Rachel stared at each other in shocked silence for a moment; then Quinn threw her arms around her friend.

            “Hey, c’mon tiger, it’s okay. I forgive you, all right? Don’t cry…”

            “Quinn, don’t tell her not to cry. I think it’s much healthier for her to express her emotions in this manner than her usual bullying and intimidation. If she’s finally allowing herself to open up and be vulnerable, it hardly helps for you to encourage her to bottle it all up again…”

            “Fuck, Berry, will you just shut up?” Santana snapped, but with no real sting in her voice as she flopped down in a seat at the kitchen table, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Rachel, for once, fell silent, retrieving a box of tissues from the island and offering one to the flustered girl. “Thanks,” Santana grumbled reluctantly.

            “I’ll talk to Coach Sylvester tomorrow, okay?” Quinn said fervently, sitting down on Santana’s other side. “I’ll tell her that punishing you just punishes all of us. I’ll tell her how you spent all summer helping me get back into top condition, and how much better we both are when we’re working together…”

            “Thanks, mija, but that’s only half the problem,” Santana sighed, wiping her red eyes with a small, sad smile.

            “What’s the other half?” Quinn frowned. Santana just shook her head sadly.

            “It’s Brittany, isn’t it?” Rachel said sagely. The Latina girl’s head whipped up at that, staring at Rachel furiously for a second.

            “Damn it, shrimp, is it possible that you’re actually paying attention to anything other than yourself?”

            “Ahem.” Quinn raised an eyebrow, and immediately Santana deflated again. 

            “Okay, yes, it’s Britt.”

            “But we made up,” Quinn pointed out, looking confused. “She’ll forgive you in about three seconds…”

            “No, Q, this isn’t about you, okay?” Santana squirmed uncomfortably. Talking about her feelings, let alone her relationship with the sweet and innocent blonde, was completely foreign to her, and she obviously had to push herself to get the words out of her mouth. “Ever since you two have been together, Britt’s been pressuring me to make our relationship, y’know, official or whatever. I just kept telling her that it wouldn’t work for us the way it did for you guys, because you were already at the bottom of the barrel—no offense. I told her we couldn’t be cheerleaders and girlfriends at the same time, and the only way it could work was if we kept things on the down low.” She sighed in frustration, and Rachel and Quinn exchanged a knowing look.

            “So, um…I take it we’re getting to the _real_ reason Britt’s not talking to you?” Quinn asked gently. Santana shrugged glumly.

            “She said if you could be head cheerleader and date Rachel at the same time, then why not us, too? I said no way, and, um…she didn’t take it very well.”

            “Well can you blame her?” Rachel said coldly, her hackles rising in defense of the sweet blonde who she’d come to think of as a close friend—something she’d never had before Quinn came into her life. “She tells you she wants the whole world to know she loves you, and you tell _her_ you’re ashamed of her. Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to put out after that.”

            “I’m not fucking ashamed of her!” Santana yelled, her cheeks flushing bright red. “I love her, okay? That’s why I had to protect her! I don’t want idiots like Azimio and Karofsky cat-calling her or hooting at her like the pigs they are. I can’t be there to defend her every second.”

            “That’s a very noble, but misplaced sentiment,” Rachel said gently, the hostility mostly gone from her voice now. “Brittany may be a little more, um, innocent than most…but she’s not a child, Santana. She’s quite capable of choosing for herself what she wants, and she wants you. Don’t belittle her by presuming that she doesn’t understand what that means, or that she can’t take care of herself without you. If you really love someone, you have to see them as your equal in every way.” Rachel was beaming at Quinn when she finished, and Quinn smiled shyly back at her. Santana rolled her eyes.

            “Thanks, guys, I just love being caught in the middle of your eye-sex,” she muttered sarcastically. Ignoring her, Quinn bounced out of her seat and sat on the edge of Rachel’s chair, kissing her lightly.

            “You mean that?” Quinn murmured when she’d pulled her lips away from Rachel’s.

            “Of course, sunshine. I’m sorry I freaked out about you being back on the Cheerios…it was stupid, and it wasn’t fair to you. I was just scared that once you were popular again, you wouldn’t want me anymore. 

            “You’re right. That _is_ stupid,” Quinn nodded gravely, grabbing Rachel by the back of her neck and kissing her again. When about fifteen silent seconds had passed, Santana cleared her throat. Quinn and Rachel seemed to have forgotten that they weren’t alone in the kitchen.

            “Hey! Still here,” Santana snapped, waving a hand in front of their faces.

            “Sorry,” the two girls chorused in unison, with matching blushes on their faces. Quinn pulled back slightly, looping one arm around Rachel’s shoulders and playing with a lock of her hair. Rachel leaned back into her contentedly. 

            “Wanna stay for game night, San?” Quinn asked brightly. “After we finish our homework, we’re playing Trivial Pursuit with Rachel’s dads. You can be on me and Michael’s team—we totally kick butt.”

            “Oh my _God_ , Q, Berry is turning you into the dorkiest cheerleader in history,” Santana groaned, but there was a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks but no thanks—I think I’m gonna go talk to Brit. That is, if _she’ll_ talk to _me_.”

            “She will,” Rachel said confidently. “She loves you, dummy.”

 

………………………………………………………………….

 

            The next morning, Quinn and Rachel walked past Brittany and Santana making out in the parking lot. It didn’t cause all that much of a stir, really—like with Quinn and Rachel, it hadn’t been much of a secret that the two Cheerios were more than friends. The hooting and hollering of horny boys that Santana had feared didn’t take long to erupt, of course; but they were all surprised when Brittany turned calmly to Azimio in the hallway and said, with a completely straight face, “My girlfriend will rip out your eyeballs if you look at me like that again. Bitch.”

            Rachel was still laughing at the mental image of Azimio’s shocked expression when the bell rang for 6th period, signaling their first pep assembly of the year. She was glad to see Quinn and Santana side by side again, but after a minute, the little diva forgot about everything but her girlfriend. Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Rachel had spent plenty of time fantasizing about what it would be like to see Quinn cheer again, and not have to pretend she wasn’t watching. Much to Rachel’s delight, Quinn was just as interested in having Rachel’s eyes on her as Rachel was in watching, and the two of them made puppydog eyes at each other all through the Cheerios’ routine, barely noticing how much attention their eye contact was getting from the rest of the school. When Quinn stood at the top of the cheerleader pyramid for the grand finale, she pointed down at Rachel in the stands, and blew her a kiss. The entire school erupted into crazy cheers, and as soon as Quinn was on the ground again, she ran straight to the edge of the court, where Rachel was waiting to jump into her arms and kiss her.

Coach Sylvester made Quinn run laps for an extra hour after practice for the crime of “trying to start a lesbian sex riot,” but the blonde girl hardly noticed her punishment. Her head was in the clouds, imagining what grand, public gesture Rachel was planning to out-romance her. She didn’t even notice when it started to rain, and at the end of the hour, Sue Sylvester was furious to see the goofy smile still plastered to her head cheerleader’s face.


	19. Teenage Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to note that I wrote this BEFORE Blaine was introduced on the show--this is one of the songs I gave Quinn and Rachel that those sneaky Glee writers stole from me and gave to Kurt and Blaine! (Or just Blaine in this case). I'm not mad, it's all good in the gayborhood. As long as somebody gay is using them. Lol.

 

  
                When Quinn got home that night, she found Rachel bustling around her kitchen, which was full of the warm, delicious smells of baking herbs. Even more surprising, her mom was there too, looking only slightly uncomfortable as she chatted with the tiny brunette over her martini.

                “Are you… _cooking?_ ” The blonde girl asked, shock plain on her face as she dropped her workout bag on the floor and kicked off her soaked shoes.

                “Just because I usually don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t,” Rachel shrugged, wrapping her arms around her soggy girlfriend and giving her a quick peck on the lips—neither of them was comfortable doing anything more in from of Mrs. Fabray. “You’re all cold and wet, babe.  I thought Cheerios practice moves into the gym when it’s raining?”

                “Yeah, but Coach Sylvester made me stay outside and do laps…it was, um, punishment for the pep rally.” Quinn blushed, and Rachel grinned shyly, while Mrs. Fabray just looked confused and sipped her drink.

                “What happened at the pep rally, Quinnie?”

                “Oh, nothing, mom—I just, um, messed up the choreography a little. You know how psycho Ms. Sylvester is about us being perfect.” Rachel bit her lip to stop the giggles that threatened to erupt. Then Quinn shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, and Rachel frowned.

                “Okay, enough chit-chat. You get upstairs and get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold, missy. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” Rachel smiled sweetly. Quinn scowled.

                “Rachel, I’m not five. I can handle a little rain.”

                “Quinn, don’t be rude,” her mother chastised, sipping daintily at her martini. “Rachel cares about you, and she’s just trying to be helpful. Now go get cleaned up so we can enjoy this lovely dinner she’s making.” The two girls stared at each other in shock—was Quinn’s mom actually saying something nice about Rachel? Normally she avoided saying anything about Rachel at all. Too stunned to speak, Quinn just turned and ran upstairs to shower, wondering if her mom had just been replaced with a pod person.  _Then again_ , she thought to herself,  _if she was a pod person she probably would’ve dropped the martini…_  

                Rachel’s dinner was actually quite good—she’d made mushroom-herbed polenta, green beans with lemon zest, and couscous salad, and Mrs. Fabray complimented her even more than Quinn did, which Quinn actually found a little annoying. The blonde girl started snapping at both her mom and her girlfriend, causing them to exchange puzzled glances, which only made Quinn snap at them more. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was so cranky; she knew Rachel was trying to do something nice for her to thank her for the romantic gesture at the pep rally, but for some reason, she was just getting more and more irritated. It didn’t help that her throat hurt every time she tried to swallow, and her head was starting to pound.

                Rachel had no idea what Quinn was so annoyed about either, and had just decided to stop talking all together when Mrs. Fabray blindsided her by asking if she’d like to spend the night. Stunned, Rachel turned automatically to Quinn to see what she wanted; but Quinn looked too shocked to react.

                “Um…thank you, Mrs. Fabray, that would be lovely. I’ll just have to call my dads.” Quinn rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from the table, shoving her plate in the sink and stalking out of the room. Rachel glanced from her girlfriend’s retreating form, back to the older Fabray who was sitting across for her, looking just as confused as she felt.

                “Go see what’s bothering her, sweetie. I’ll get the dishes, all right?”

                “Thank you,” Rachel smiled weakly, and jumped up to follow Quinn to her room. She found her girlfriend curled up in a ball on her bed, scowling at her English reading. “Is my cooking really that awful?” Rachel joked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Quinn threw down her book and put her head in her hands.

                “I’m sorry,” she whined moodily. “I’m being such a bitch right now…your dinner was awesome, Rach. My mom is just making me fucking crazy.”

                “Yes, I surmised as much from your behavior downstairs. I’m just confused—she’s really being nice right now, and you’re acting like that’s a _bad_ thing.”

                “It’s not a bad thing,” Quinn groused, picking at a scab on her hand. “It’s just weird and confusing, and I don’t get where it’s coming from. And why is she suddenly inviting you to sleep over? She knows you’re sleeping in  _my_ bed and not  _hers_ , right?”

                “Quinn! What on earth is the matter with you?” Rachel demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

                “I…fuck…I’m sorry, Rach,” Quinn groaned miserably. Then she put her face in her hands and burst into tears.

                “Hey, c’mere sunshine…” Rachel dropped back onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her sniffling girlfriend. “It’s okay, shh baby…” Gently, she pulled Quinn’s hands away, dropping light kisses all over her tearstained face. When she went for her lips, though, Quinn pulled away with a little whine.

         “Don’t kiss me…I…uhh…” Blinking hazily, the blonde girl shivered, turned her head to the side, and sneezed into her hands. “Egscuse be,” she sniffled wearily.

         “Oh, so _that’s_ why you’re so cranky. You’re just getting sick, huh baby?” Rachel leaned over Quinn to grab the tissues from her desk, offering them to her girlfriend, who still had her hands cupped over her face.

         _“Doe,”_ Quinn whined, pouting and blowing her nose. Rachel just looked at her knowingly and raised one eyebrow. “Maybe,” the blonde girl grumbled eventually, closing her eyes with a drowsy sigh.

         “Aww, my poor little angel,” Rachel cooed, pulling Quinn down against her so they were cuddled snugly against the pillows. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me and stay out of the rain, hmm?”

         “You’re not mad?” Quinn asked meekly, yawning into Rachel’s hair. “I was bitchy for no reason, and you were being so sweet and you made me dinner and my mom said you could sleep over, and now we can’t even enjoy it…”

         “Of course I’m not mad…fighting doesn’t count when you’re sick, remember?” Rachel poked Quinn between her ribs, making her giggle sleepily.

         “Actually…when I said that, I only meant it for you,” Quinn admitted sheepishly.

         “Well I only mean it for you, so it works out, doesn’t it?” Rachel reasoned, running her fingers lightly through her girlfriend’s silky blond hair. “Besides, we don’t have to fool around to enjoy spending the night together.”

         “But I _wanted_ to,” Quinn grumbled petulantly, grabbing a fresh tissue and rubbing moodily at her nose. “Tonight was supposed to be…romantic…” Rachel reached out and rubbed her back as she half-stifled another sneeze.

         “Bless you baby,” the dark-haired girl murmured, tucking a few locks of hair back behind Quinn’s ear while she blew her nose again.

         “Ughh. This sucks. You should probably just go home, Rach…I don’t want you to catch my cooties.”

         “Hmm, nope, sorry. I have to exercise my veto here.”

         “Your _what?_ ” Quinn raised her eyebrows, so astounded she forgot to pout for a moment.

         “Don’t look so surprised, you did the same thing when I was sick. And you were _pregnant_. If you can do it, so can I—I’m not leaving you when you’re all sniffly and miserable.”

         “But Rach…”

“Nope, sorry, the veto is already in place. You’re my girlfriend, and when you don’t feel good, I have exclusive rights to taking care of you. Cooties be damned.” Rachel’s pronouncement was so final, and her expression so fierce, Quinn couldn’t help laughing.

“Okay,” the cheerleader sighed, yawning and curling up with her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “But you can’t get mad at me if you catch it.” After a pause, she added, “And I get a raincheck for my booty call.”

         Quinn fell asleep listening to Rachel read aloud from Wuthering Heights, and in the morning, they both woke up a little cranky and congested. Rachel insisted they stop by her house on the way to school so she could pick up all her herbal supplements, which she badgered Quinn to take every two hours. The blonde girl whined and moaned every time, but grudgingly admitted by the end of the day that she _was_ actually feeling a lot better (aside from getting teased mercilessly by Santana for being whipped). And the next time it started to rain during Cheerios practice, Quinn wasn’t surprised to see Rachel come running onto the field with her huge gold-star-covered umbrella, carrying a red thermal LL Bean raincoat.

         “Admit it, Q—she could come out here with a neon pink argyle raincoat that said _Property of Rachel Berry_ across the chest, and you’d wear it,” Santana snickered, while Quinn calmly pulled the insulated slicker over her head.

         “Probably,” Quinn smirked, giving Rachel a quick kiss under the umbrella before jogging back to the center of the field, where the rest of the squad was looking enviously at their warm and dry head cheerleader.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

         The following week was the homecoming assembly, and they spent every Glee rehearsal arguing with Mr. Schue about the questionable merits of Christopher Cross versus Britney Spears. They practiced the Britney number behind his back anyway, knowing he’d give in at the last minute; but when Quinn showed up for the assembly in her black-and-white Britney costume, she was confused to see the rest of the glee club dressed in artfully ripped jeans and red tank tops.

         “Did I miss a memo?” She asked Mercedes, who just grinned secretively at her. Behind her, the cheerleader could see the rest of the glee club shooting clandestine smiles at her, too.

         “Nope. It’s a surprise…you just sit down right here”—Mercedes pushed Quinn into a seat in the front row—“and enjoy the show, a’aight girl?” Mercedes walked away smirking, and Quinn, bewildered, took off her hat and suspenders so she wouldn’t look so strange compared to the rest of the audience. After a few minutes of chatter, Principal Figgins called them all to order; then Rachel approached the microphone, beaming.

         “I’d like to dedicate this performance to the sweetest, smartest, and most beautiful girl at McKinley High—my girlfriend, Quinn Fabray.” The little diva winked right at the blonde cheerleader and blew her a kiss, causing an uproar of hooting and hollering from the stands as Quinn blushed furiously, unable to look away from Rachel’s bottomless brown eyes. Then Puck started strumming his guitar, and Quinn recognized the song instantly. Her heart started to pound in her chest as Rachel opened her mouth and began to sing.

You think I'm pretty  
Without any make-up on  
You think I'm funny  
When I tell the punch line wrong  
I know you get me  
So I'll let my walls come down, down…

The rest of the glee club danced around Rachel, oohing and ahhing in the background, while their tiny star filled the auditorium with her huge voice, staring straight at Quinn. The blonde girl stared right back, blinking furiously so the tears welling up in her eyes wouldn’t blur her vision. She didn’t want to miss one second of this insane, incredibly romantic gesture.

  
We drove to Cali  
And got drunk on the beach  
Got a motel and  
Built a fort out of sheets  
I finally found you  
My missing puzzle piece  
I'm complete…

As soon as Rachel finished singing, two things happened simultaneously—the entire auditorium burst into wild applause, and Quinn jumped out of her seat, threw her arms around Rachel’s neck, and kissed her soundly in front of the entire school.

         “Did you like your surprise, sunshine?” Rachel asked breathlessly, beaming while the rest of the glee club bowed to the cheering crowd.

         “You are getting _so_ lucky tonight,” Quinn growled.

         “Score for team Faberry,” Rachel squealed happily, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Quinn rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest Rachel’s use of the nickname the rest of the school had given them.

         “I can’t believe you got them to learn an entire new number behind Mr. Schue’s back…when we were already learning _another_ number behind his back! What did you do to entice them?”

         “It was easy,” Rachel shrugged modestly. “The girls are suckers for romance, and the boys just want to see us kiss.” Quinn blushed furiously, but couldn’t bite back the grin that took over her face as she dragged Rachel out of the auditorium.

 


	20. All the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is one of the chapters that I modified for the repost, so I could post as Teen. Obviously I took a big chunk out, so if you want to read the explicit sexy parts, you can read it on fanficiton.net. Lol. Also obviously, there is still some serious making out going on here before the cutaway to the next morning. I know, such torture for you! [Evil laugh]...

 

            “Hi.” Quinn stood shyly on Rachel’s doorstep, bearing a bouquet of ginger spice roses—ivory with red tips—tied with a red satin ribbon. She’d changed out of her Cheerios uniform into a simple, slate-gray dress, belted at the waist, the scooped neck showing off her pale collarbone and the golden blonde hair that cascaded around her shoulders.

            “For me?” Rachel asked, beaming just as shyly back as she took the flowers, giving the blonde girl a quick kiss. “Thank you, Quinn, they’re beautiful. Let me go put them in some water.” Rachel grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her into the house, swaying her hips a little to make sure Quinn was appreciating _her_ outfit—a sinfully short black skirt, and a softly draped, off-the-shoulder, rose-colored silk top. The effect was not wasted on Quinn, who felt like the temperature in the room had just gone up about fifteen degrees.

            “You made me dinner _again?_ ” the blonde girl asked, pleased but confused when they got to the kitchen, and she saw the table elegantly laid for two, with candles and china and a half-carafe of white wine on ice. “I thought we were going out…and, um, where are your dads?”

            “Visiting my Aunt Sandy in Muncie.” Rachel said casually as she pulled a vase down from a cabinet, smirking when she caught Quinn staring at her ass.

            “Muncie?” Quinn repeated, sounding slightly shell-shocked. “Like, Indiana?”

            “Yes, Quinn, Muncie _is_ in Indiana. You’re all ready for the big geography bee now, aren’t you?” Rachel teased, delighting in the delicate pink blush creeping slowly up Quinn’s throat.

            “No, I just meant—are they coming back tonight?” 

            “Nope.” Rachel shook her head, her dark brown eyes very serious as she smiled softly at her anxious girlfriend.

            “Oh.” Quinn gulped. “So this is…”

            “My entirely un-subtle attempt to seduce you?” Rachel put the flowers on the table, walked over to Quinn, and wrapped both arms around her neck. “Why yes, as a matter of fact it is. Unless you’d rather just go to Breadsticks and get oogled by the football team as per usual…” Before Rachel could finish her speech, Quinn leaned in and kissed her deeply. 

            “Here’s good,” the blonde girl murmured huskily, her fingers slipping under the fabric of Rachel’s skirt and raking down her lower back.

            “Oh,” Rachel nodded, suddenly rendered as inarticulate as Quinn had been moments before. “Good.”

            The truth was, they had both needed more time than they had expected to get to this point—where they both felt ready to go all the way, give up all control, and surrender their bodies and emotions completely to each other’s care. And even though they both missed living together terribly, it turned out to give them the chance to do things they hadn’t been able to do before—simple, normal teenage things, like surprising each other with flowers on the doorstep, real dates where Quinn came and picked Rachel up in her car, opening doors for her and dressing up for her, seeing the shyly spellbound look in her girlfriend’s dark eyes as they traveled approvingly up and down her body. Quinn really, really liked surprising Rachel whenever she could—and, it turned out, she liked being surprised by Rachel just as much.

            “So…” Quinn smiled her secret, wicked smile—“what’s for dinner?” She pulled away from Rachel’s flushed skin, sitting daintily in her chair and delighting in Rachel’s slight stammering as she fixed two plates of spicy coconut curry and jasmine rice. They took their time over their food, relaxing as they sipped cautiously at their wine (Rachel assured Quinn that her dads had given their permission for this, as long as they promised not to drive after; like Quinn had any intention of leaving). After her first experience with liquor, Quinn erred on the side of caution—she knew Rachel wasn’t going to get her pregnant of course, but she also wanted tonight to be special and memorable, which it _wouldn’t_ be if she passed out at the table. But one glass of wine, she found, left her feeling warm and loose, calming her nerves, and helping her shift into the suave and confident role she’d been slowly easing back into ever since being reinstated as head cheerleader. She grazed one hand in teasing circles on Rachel’s thigh while she ate, grinning mischievously as the dark-haired girl turned redder by the minute.

            “Jesus, Quinn, are you trying to kill me?” Rachel finally groaned, looking up at her girlfriend’s playful hazel eyes with an expression of pained intensity.

            “Of course not, starlight…I’m just trying to show you how much I appreciate all the trouble you went through to make tonight perfect. Don’t you feel appreciated?” Her fingers continued to make light circles over Rachel’s inner thigh, teasing the impossibly soft skin with the whisper-light contact.

            “I feel…like I’m going to explode if you keep this up much longer,” Rachel growled, squirming in her seat. Her shifting hips caused Quinn’s fingers to slip up her thigh just a little bit higher, making the blonde girl gasp in the back of her throat when her fingers came into contact with the warm, slippery wetness that was beginning to pool between Rachel’s legs. Knowing that _she_ had done that, it was _her_ touch that made Rachel’s core turn hot and wet and desperate, drove Quinn nearly mad with desire. If not her for incredible willpower and her determination to make Rachel’s first time absolutely magical, she would’ve ripped the smaller girl’s clothes off right there.

            Instead, she leaned in and pressed a soft, unhurried kiss to Rachel’s warm lips, her free hand moving up to run through the dark, silky hair at the back of her girlfriend’s neck. Rachel sighed into Quinn’s mouth, but before she could deepen the kiss, the blonde girl pulled away again. “Quinn, _please,_ ” Rachel whined, squirming impatiently in her seat again. Quinn tucked a lock of dark hair back from Rachel’s flushed face, and pressed her lips to the shorter girl’s ear. 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar—but never doubt I love.” Then she stood and offered her hand to her trembling, dumbstruck girlfriend (she _knew_ a little Shakespeare would have this effect on Rachel), who eventually managed to reach out and take her hand, following her up the stairs on wobbling legs.

The second they got through the bedroom door, Rachel pushed Quinn up against the wall, kissing her hard and rubbing up against her like a cat. Quinn pushed back, holding Rachel tightly by the hips, and then, for the first time, reaching to unzip her girlfriend’s skirt.

“Can I?” the blonde girl whispered huskily, fingers poised at the top of the zipper. She was certain she already knew the answer; but she needed to hear Rachel say it.

“Yes,” the dark-haired girl nodded breathlessly, both hands buried in Quinn’s hair. Smiling, the cheerleader pulled the zipper down and slipped the wispy skirt off her girlfriend’s hips, letting it land in a small puddle on the floor, where Rachel kicked it away. Then the smaller girl raised her arms over her head, and Quinn gently tugged the delicate silk top off her, too. Rachel was left in nothing but a black lace demi-bra and matching panties, her olive skin glowing in the fading twilight.

“You are so…fucking…beautiful,” Quinn whispered, her voice trembling with intensity as she ran her hands lightly up and down Rachel’s body. Rachel whimpered, trembling at the knees, and Quinn wrapped one arm firmly around her waist, kissing her and playing with her hair while pushing her back towards the bed, until it bumped up against the back of Rachel’s knees. Instead of falling back onto the bed, the dark-haired girl reached out and undid the belt on Quinn’s dress, searching impatiently for the zipper.

“It’s right here,” Quinn giggled, reaching up under her right arm. “I got it…”

“No, I want to,” Rachel insisted, slapping Quinn’s hand away.

“Yes _, ma’am_ ,” the blonde girl smirked, a note of teasing but affectionate sarcasm in her voice as she submitted to Rachel’s insistent fingers. Then Quinn’s smile went slack when her girlfriend’s fingers slipped up under her dress, sliding the cool fabric up and over her head.

“You vixen, you really _are_ trying to kill me,” Rachel groaned, when she’d tossed Quinn’s dress across the room and saw that her gorgeous girlfriend wasn’t wearing a bra; the blonde girl was left in nothing but a pair of baby blue plaid hiphuggers. “Since when do you wear plaid underwear?”

“I thought you’d like them,” Quinn shrugged, toying nervously with the hemline of the panties in question. This was as close to naked as she’d ever been in front of another person, and a lifetime of Christian guilt suddenly attacked her nerves. Rachel seemed to sense the wave of anxiety washing over her girlfriend’s body like mist, and she pulled Quinn’s hips firmly against her own, feeling her own pulse skyrocket at the amount of bare skin on skin contact they now shared.

“I do,” Rachel whispered, kissing Quinn lightly as she leaned back against the bed, pulling the blonde girl down with her. Quinn didn’t resist, climbing gracefully on top of Rachel as they crawled backwards towards the pillows, kissing hungrily.

“I want to feel all of you,” Quinn whispered, her hazel eyes wide with the soft, vulnerable look of love that turned Rachel to butter every time. The dark-haired girl nodded, smiling shyly, and let her girlfriend unclasp her bra and slip it back off her shoulders. When they were both left in nothing but their panties, Quinn let her full body weight cover Rachel’s, skin on skin everywhere as their breasts and stomachs and hips all pressed together, thighs slipping naturally into the warmest and wettest place they could find. Rachel moaned throatily into her girlfriend’s mouth, pressing her thigh harder between Quinn’s and holding onto her hips to increase the pressure.

“Underwear. Off. Now,” the little diva snarled, her fingers tugging impatiently at the thin fabric around Quinn’s hips. Quinn lifted her body slightly to help Rachel, both of them whining involuntarily when the delicious pressure between them disappeared. They were both impatient, and fumbled a little with the mechanics of trying to take off each other’s underwear without changing positions at all. 

“Rachel! Be careful! I bought these for you,” Quinn squeaked when she heard the thin fabric tear.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” Rachel growled, unapologetically tossing the ripped panties across the room. Then she grabbed Quinn’s hands and put them on her own hips, her dark eyes nearly black with lust. Trembling with desire, the blonde girl pulled the wispy bit of lace down her girlfriend’s legs, letting it drop to the floor. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes with the same awed expression, hands running freely up and down each other’s smooth skin, completely uninterrupted by any fabric barriers.

“I love you,” Quinn whispered, rolling her hips back on top of Rachel’s, but still leaning some of her weight on her elbow. She wasn’t going to be rushed; she wanted this to last as long as possible. “I love you, I love you…" 

“Oh, Quinn…” Rachel sighed longingly, pulling her girlfriend’s exquisite body down on top of her own and leaning up to kiss her with all her strength. All the doubt and worry was gone now, no thoughts of doing something wrong or not being good enough. No thoughts at all. Just sensation, skin on skin, pounding hearts, wrapped up in a cocoon of each other that made them both feel safe enough let the whole world fall away.

 

…………………………………………………….

 

They kept each other up all night, finally falling into an exhausted, blissful sleep around dawn. When they woke up, a little after noon, they were both slightly embarrassed to see the marks they’d left on each other—Rachel’s throat was decorated with no less than four red and purple hickeys, and Quinn’s back was covered in angry red claw marks.

“At least I can cover mine up,” Quinn pointed out, pulling on the spare robe she kept in Rachel’s bedroom. “You’re gonna need a turtleneck or something. I’m really sorry I mauled you, baby…I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“I’m not,” Rachel shrugged, climbing back into Quinn’s lap to give her another long, lazy kiss, ending with a soft bite to her lower lip. “Nothing that feels this good can be bad. I refuse to be embarrassed about making you feel so good that you turned into a wild animal.” Quinn giggled, kissing her girlfriend back until her stomach started to growl insistently.

“Baby, as much as I want to keep kissing you forever…I think I’m going to pass out if we don’t eat something soon.”

“Agreed,” Rachel sighed, climbing reluctantly off her girlfriend and searching for the nearest available clean clothes. “I might not even need to bother with my morning workouts anymore, if we keep this up. Do you want to go out or stay in?”

“If we go out, everybody’s totally gonna know we did it…I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you.” Quinn bit her lip, and Rachel beamed back at her, straightening her jumper dress absentmindedly.

“Waffle House?” Rachel suggested, grinning innocently.

“Awesome,” Quinn smiled shyly, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and pulling her out the door.

 

 

 

 

           

 

           

 

           

 


	21. Minor Adjustments

 

 

            Quinn was flipping idly through a magazine in the waiting room when Carl the dentist man (she never did catch his last name) came and told her she could take her girlfriend home. Rachel was still passed out in the dentist's chair, and after several minutes of gentle nudges and light slapping, she finally opened her eyes-- which were slightly cross-eyed and very bleary, making the little diva look stoned out of her mind-- smiled up at Quinn, and asked woozily, "Is this real life?"

"Yeah, baby, this is real life," Quinn assured her, biting back the goofy grin threatening to overtake her face. It just seemed wrong, somehow, to take pleasure from Rachel's post-anesthesia loopiness...the poor thing was beyond out of it, so much so that Quinn wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to get her girlfriend home all by herself. But, damn, she was freaking adorable right now... 

"Look Quinn, I have two fingers..." Rachel giggled drunkenly, holding up two fingers in front of her face.

"You're so hiiiiiigh," Quinn snickered, grabbing Rachel's hand and kissing it. "Do you think you can walk, babe? I gotta get you home now. C'mon, stand up..." 

“Quinn Quinn Quinn,” Rachel sighed, stumbling out of her chair and throwing both arms around the blonde girl, who was now basically holding her up. “You’re soooooo pretty…” Giggling, Rachel pressed her face into Quinn’s soft blonde hair. “And you always smell so good…even when you’re all sweaty after cheerleading practice…”

“Rach, stop,” Quinn said anxiously when she felt her girlfriend’s soft lips on her throat. “You’re looped on anesthesia and we need to get you home now, okay? C’mon, move it.” The cheerleader tried to detach one of Rachel’s arms from around her neck so they could walk; but the shorter girl held on tight.

“No,” she whined against Quinn’s throat. “Carry me.”

“I can’t carry you, Rach,” Quinn groaned impatiently, feeling her face heating up the longer Rachel’s breath fluttered against her pulse point. “You need to walk.”

“Yes you can! You’re strong. And I’m little.” Rachel giggled, one hand playing with Quinn’s hair while the other grazed over the back of her neck. Even whacked on laughing gas, the brunette noticed her girlfriend’s pulse picking up, and she smiled dopily. “C’mon Quinnie, I wanna ride on your back!”

“You’re wearing a miniskirt, Rachel.”

“So?” 

“So! The whole world will see your underwear!”

“So?” 

“Arrgh! Move your ass to the car, Rachel Barbara Berry!” The little brunette whined in protest, but finally started walking when Quinn smacked her ass. Halfway across the parking lot, she stopped short, and Quinn, her arm firmly around Rachel’s waist, nearly fell over. 

“Rachel! Keep going.”

“I’m all out of batteries, Quinn. You’ll have to smack my ass again if you wanna charge me up.” She giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger, still swaying unsteadily on her feet.

“Jesus, Rachel…” Quinn sighed, caught between embarrassment and arousal, and hastily glanced around to make sure they were alone. Then she smirked, narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired girl, and gave her behind another firm smack. Rachel squealed in obvious pleasure.

“You _are_ strong,” she sighed happily. 

“And _you’re_ a kinky little freak,” Quinn said affectionately. “Now please, get in the damn car so we can go home…and maybe we’ll find out how much you can take.” Rachel nearly fell on her face in her eagerness to get to the car now. 

Unfortunately for them both, Rachel fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Quinn had to get Michael to come out and carry her into the house. The blonde girl went home slightly frustrated, and even more uncertain. How much of that had been the effects of the anesthesia, and how much was authentically Rachel? Did her sweet, adorable girlfriend really want to be smacked around, or was she just being goofy from the drugs in her system? Quinn wasn’t sure she’d be brave enough to bring the subject up herself, if Rachel didn’t remember when she woke up…and Quinn wasn’t even sure if she _wanted_ her to remember or not.

The next morning at school, Quinn stood chatting by her locker with Brittany and Santana when her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Rachel came strutting down the hall in the most sinfully sexy outfit Quinn had ever seen her wear—a tiny cropped button-down top, unbuttoned enough so her red bra was showing, and tied just below her breasts. Her stomach was bare, and below her bellybutton was a short, pleated black skirt and matching kneesocks with chunky high-heeled Mary Janes. Her long hair was pulled back in two braids tied with red ribbons.

“Holy shit,” Quinn whispered, feeling all the blood in her body rush south so fast, she was left slightly lightheaded. She was also slightly embarrassed—this was school, after all, not a nightclub, and she didn’t know if she could keep her brain out of the gutter with her girlfriend dressed this way all day. It was one thing knowing that people were looking at them because they were cute together; it was another thing entirely for people to stare at them like some kinky sex goddesses, the cheerleader and the Catholic schoolgirl.

“Rachel looks _hot_ ,” Brittany said approvingly.

“Um…” Quinn opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came out. Then the little brunette caught her eye, grinned widely, and sauntered over to where the cheerleaders were standing.

“Good morning, Quinn. Are feeling all right? You look a little flushed.” Rachel blinked innocently, while the corner of her mouth pulled into a knowing, saucy smirk. 

“I, I…uh…” Quinn gulped, jumping back and slamming against the lockers when Rachel reached out and touched her arm. “I’m fine,” she squeaked.

“Are you sure, baby? You’re all hot and bothered. Maybe we should get some fresh air before class…” Rachel grinned seductively, grabbing Quinn’s hand and pulling her towards the door.

“Rachel, stop it! We’re at school! What on earth has gotten into you?”

“Hey, the girl finally got the stick out of her ass, Q. Let her have some fun, why don’t you?” Santana snickered, earning a furious glare from the red-faced blonde.

“Stop looking at her like a piece of meat, San!” Quinn took off her Cheerios jacket and put it around Rachel’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Quinn, but I’m really not cold,” Rachel said smoothly, slipping the jacket off and pushing it back into her girlfriend’s hands. “What’s the matter? I know you like my outfit, I can tell from the look in your eyes. Don’t be embarrassed—everybody loves us together, we don’t have to hide it.” Rachel leaned against Quinn’s side and began playing with the end of her ponytail.

“I _am_ embarrassed, Rachel. Just because we’re popular now doesn’t mean we need to dress like porn stars!” Quinn took a step back, leaving Rachel slightly off-balance against the lockers; and finally the smaller girl blushed, too.

“Well excuse me for daring to have some fun,” Rachel said huffily, eyes flashing as she straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Playing dress-up _is_ fun,” Brittany agreed brightly. “Santana and I play dress-up sometimes before we do it. We’ve got all kinds of outfits.”

“ _Yeah_ we do,” Santana agreed, neither of them looking the slightest bit embarrassed as they shared a playful kiss.

“But not at _school,_ ” Quinn hissed, banging her locker open and grabbing her books so hastily she dropped some of them on the floor. “I mean, how the hell am I supposed to concentrate when”—

“Ooh, _baby!_ ” Azimio hooted appreciatively as he strode past, leering. “You gonna bring her to cheerleading practice today, Fabray? You don’t even gotta cheer if you don’t want to! We can watch you girls do other things, too.” He wolf-whistled and slapped hands with Karovsky as they walked down the hall, laughing.

“In your dreams, asshole!” Quinn snarled, her arm curling protectively around Rachel’s waist without conscious thought. Then the blonde turned to her girlfriend and demanded, “Do you want to spend your whole day fighting off dumb gorillas like those two? Cause that’s all you’re gonna get with that outfit." 

“I don’t think I’m in danger of being raped in the hallway, Quinn,” Rachel said stiffly, pulling herself out of her girlfriend’s grasp and crossing her arms over her chest. “News flash: I like attention. Why should I feel guilty about finally getting it?”

“Because _this_ isn’t the kind of attention that’s going to get you anywhere,” Quinn snapped, hating the hurt look in Rachel’s brown eyes, but unable to stop herself from saying it anyway. “They’re not thinking about how talented you are when you look like that, Rachel. They’re just thinking about fucking you.” Rachel didn’t say anything, but her dark eyes filled with angry tears, and her bottom lip began to quiver. “Baby…” Quinn murmured apologetically, but Rachel spun around and ran—actually ran—away from her. “Fuck,” Quinn whispered, pressing her forehead against her locker.

“Nice going, Q. You just saved yourself the hassle of some nice lunchtime sex in the janitor’s closet,” Santana muttered sardonically.

“Shut up, San,” Quinn snapped.

“Does that mean _we_ can use the janitor’s closet?” Brittany asked brightly.

Rachel avoided Quinn for the rest of the day, and Quinn, hoping to avoid a scene, didn’t push. But when she walked into glee rehearsal and saw Rachel sitting between Finn and Matt, both of them fawning all over her, her mind went blank with furious jealousy.

“Rachel, what the hell are you doing?” Quinn demanded, storming over with her hands on her hips.

“Well since you made it abundantly clear this morning that you don’t appreciate my new look, I’m putting my energy where I _am_ appreciated,” Rachel shrugged, feigning indifference.

“So if _I_ won’t fawn all over you in public and make you feel like a porn star, you’ll just throw yourself at the nearest warm body?” Quinn demanded, her face turning even redder than it had before.

“Hey!” Finn objected, looking slightly offended.

“Shut up, Finn!” The blonde girl snapped.

“Leave him alone, Quinn. He’s not doing anything wrong, and neither am I!” Both girls were starting to notice the entire glee club watching them fight, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care.

“Well if that’s how you feel, then go ahead!” Quinn yelled, turning and storming from the choir room with tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“Fine!” Rachel yelled at her retreating back, and though she didn’t turn around, Quinn could hear the tears in her girlfriend’s voice, too.

 


	22. Hallelujah

 

                  “I couldn’t catch Quinn,” Santana reported, panting slightly, when she returned to the choir room. “She took off like a bat out of hell. Any luck with Rachel?”

                  “She’s crying in the bathroom,” Brittany pouted. “Kurt and Mercedes are trying to get her to come out.” Santana rolled her eyes.

                  “Santana, maybe you and Brittany could give it a try?” Mr. Schue asked, trying to look encouraging as he nodded toward the girls’ bathroom. Santana raised one eyebrow incredulously; then, when she saw that Mr. Schue was actually serious, she just threw up her hands and sighed.

                  “Okay, whatever. But don’t expect any miracles.” Santana grabbed Brittany’s hand and dragged her out of the choir room in a futile attempt to get their star vocalist to stop crying and come back to rehearsal. 

                  At the Fabray house, Quinn’s mother heard the sound of the front door slamming, followed by unselfconsciously loud sobs; then hurried footsteps pounding up the stairs, and another door slamming. The sound of her daughter’s heartbroken sobbing was still audible through the door. Hesitantly, Judy Fabray abandoned her ironing and padded lightly down the hall, knocking nervously on the closed door.

                  “Quinnie? Are you all right?” 

                  “Go away,” Quinn’s muffled voice croaked. Judy almost followed her daughter’s command—it would’ve been a such relief to just walk away and ignore the display of emotion, the way their family always had—but then she firmed her resolve and knocked again, louder than before.

                  “Quinn Cordelia Fabray, I did not bring you home so we could spend our lives ignoring each other. I’m your mother and I love you, and you are _going_ to talk to me, dammit!” The sound of Quinn’s crying slowed, then tapered off into ragged sniffles. A few silent moments went by; then the door opened, revealing a red-eyed Quinn wearing a stunned expression on her tear-streaked face.

                  “I think that’s the first time I ever heard you swear, Mom.” Quinn cracked a small, sad smile, and without pausing to think, Judy threw her arms around her daughter and hugged her awkwardly. She had to start somewhere.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………

  

                  “C’mon Berry, we all knew Quinn was a tight ass. She’ll get over herself eventually, and you’ll be back in your sugary-sweet little world of cupcakes, rainbows and unicorns before you know it. Now will you _please_ come back to rehearsal?” Santana tapped her foot impatiently, glaring at the closed bathroom stall.

                  “Quinn is _not_ uptight!” Rachel bawled from inside the locked stall. “She’s _…*snf!*…_ just old-fashioned.”

                  “What, you mean like my grandma?” Brittany asked, frowning in confusion. “I dunno, Rachel. I don’t think Quinn even knows how to knit.” There was a pause in Rachel’s crying; then with a weary sigh, the bathroom door swung open to reveal her tearstained face.

                  “No, Brittany,” the little diva sighed, wiping her eyes. “Old-fashioned doesn’t have to mean someone who’s just like your grandma. Quinn was raised with very traditional values, and she’s…she’s just very modest, that’s all. She doesn’t wear revealing clothing…and I guess she doesn’t want me to, either.” Rachel sniffled again, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

                  “Like I said. Tight ass,” Santana repeated, shrugging. Rachel glared at her with red eyes, and Kurt jumped in between them, anxious to avoid a smackdown in the girls’ bathroom.

                  “All right ladies, let’s all compose ourselves,” he said smoothly, handing Rachel a moistened paper towel to wipe the tear streaks from her face. “What I’m sure Santana _meant_ to say is that Quinn is totally, insanely in love with you, Rachel. Once you’ve both had a chance to cool off, I have no doubt you’ll work this out and forgive each other.”

                  “Then comes the make-up sex,” Brittany said brightly. Kurt and Mercedes frowned, but Rachel giggled despite herself.

“Yes, thank you Brittany,” Kurt nodded smoothly before turning back to Rachel. “In the meantime, wash your face and take a few deep breaths, because we need you to come back to rehearsal, miss thang.”

“Well, I…suppose this _is_ good practice for Broadway,” Rachel nodded, giving her friends a small, brave smile as she sniffled. “A star can’t afford to be distracted by personal strife when a performance is on the line.”

“That’s right, girl. The show must go on!” Mercedes handed Rachel a tissue and smiled at her encouragingly. Rachel smiled weakly back.

 

……………………………………………………………………………

  

                  “Please tell me what’s hurting you, sweetheart. Is it…did you have a fight with Rachel?” Judy Fabray asked anxiously, the awkwardness she felt in asking this question plain on her face. Quinn looked at her mother guardedly, unsure whether or not it was safe to open up. She felt so raw and vulnerable; she wasn’t sure she could take it if her mom started to get judgmental now.

                  “Are you _sure_ you want to talk about this, Mom?” The blonde girl asked quietly, curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed, cuddling her favorite old stuffed donkey.

                  “Of course I’m sure, Quinnie. Isn’t this what normal parents do—talk with their kids about what’s going on in their lives?” Judy smiled encouragingly, sitting lightly on the end of Quinn’s bed.

                  “I don’t know what normal is anymore, but…yeah, I guess so.” Quinn sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Judy handed her the Kleenex from the bedside table. “Thadks,” Quinn sniffed again, with a small, watery smile. Then she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, while her mother waited patiently.

                  “Yes, I had a fight with Rachel,” she sighed finally. “She, um…she came to school today dressed kind of racy, and I, um…I guess it made me uncomfortable to have everybody looking at her like that, and I…I freaked a little.” She glanced up at her mom to gage her reaction; but Judy’s expression was open and intent upon her daughter. She was actually listening. “So then, I guess she wanted to make me jealous or something, and it seemed like she was just flirting with anyone who walked by…and then I _really_ freaked out.”

                  “Well that’s an understandable reaction, sweetheart. She shouldn’t be degrading herself like that—it sounds like she’s a very insecure person, if she needs to play on other people’s feelings to make herself feel good.”

                  “No, she’s not,” Quinn frowned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “She’s just—I mean, she’s _going_ to be on Broadway someday. She’s a star, mom. She _is_. I always knew she liked attention, and I want to give it to her; I do. It’s just—what if I’m not enough for her? What if I’ll _never_ be enough for her?” Her red eyes filled with tears again.

                  “Sweetheart…” Judy reached out and squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “I know I haven’t been a part of your life as much as I should have in the last year, but…I’ve seen you with Rachel. I’ve seen the way the two of you are when you’re together, the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I…can’t pretend to completely understand it, but…that girl loves you, Quinn. I don’t care how big a star she becomes; I don’t think she can ever replace you. Not even with a million screaming fans.” Quinn laughed through her tears, sat up and curled herself into her mom’s arms. Judy hugged her and patted her back. This time, it wasn’t nearly so awkward.

 

……………………………………………………………………

 

                  Rachel managed to get through glee rehearsal without breaking down again; but the second Mr. Schue dismissed them, she went straight to her phone to text Quinn an apology. As it turned out, Quinn had beaten her to the punch. Rachel felt a rush of warmth in her stomach as she read the new message from her girlfriend _: I’m sorry. I love you. Can I come over tonight to talk?_ Rachel smiled hugely as she texted back, _Me too. Yes please. Stay the night? I’ll be good, promise. I love love love love you._

                  “Didn’t take her long, did it?” Kurt smirked as he passed, noting Rachel’s beaming smile directed at her phone. “She’s really quite chivalrous, our Miss Fabray.”

                  “She’s my angel,” Rachel sighed, then glanced back down again when her phone buzzed with a new message: _Be there in an hour._ _Bringing my jammies. But you don’t have to be TOO good ;)_

                  Rachel barely got through dinner with her dads, she was so anxious for her girlfriend’s arrival. They hardly ever fought; but when they did, sparks tended to fly. It was like a punch in the gut, knowing that Quinn was upset with her; and even though they’d exchanged preliminary apologies by text, that really didn’t resolve anything as far as Rachel was concerned. She wouldn’t stop feeling nauseous until she could tell her girlfriend face to face how sorry she was, and see in those smoky hazel eyes that she was really forgiven.

                  Finally, the doorbell rang (Quinn still had her own key, at Michael and Jacob’s insistence; but she still rang the bell out of politeness, keeping the key only in case of emergencies and for the sense of security it offered). Rachel’s knees shook slightly as she went to answer it. Quinn looked just as anxious as Rachel felt, standing on the doorstep    with her overnight bag on her shoulder.

                  “Hi,” the blonde girl murmured awkwardly, with a small, anxious smile. 

                  “Hi,” Rachel squeaked back, actively resisting the urge to throw herself into Quinn’s arms. She didn’t want to seem desperate or needy, after all. Her stomach twisted unhappily, and she pressed a hand absently to her bellybutton. Quinn noticed this, and frowned.

                  “Are you okay?”

                  “Yes. I might throw up, but I assume you won’t hold it against me, considering how many times I held _your_ hair back last year.”

                  “Rachel…” Quinn sighed, pulling her anxious girlfriend into the house and then into a tight hug, one hand slipping under Rachel’s shirt against her stomach, and rubbing in light, soothing circles. “I’m sorry I made you feel so bad you’re on the verge of yacking,” the blonde girl murmured. Rachel sighed, her entire body going limp in the warmth of Quinn’s embrace. 

                  “I don’t feel bad because of you,” Rachel protested, her voice slightly muffled against Quinn’s hair. “It was all my fault. I’m really, really sorry, Quinn. I feel so stupid for the way I acted today…” 

                  “It _wasn’t_ all your fault, baby. I was acting stupid, too. I don’t want to control you, I swear”—

                  “You didn’t”—both of them started to talk at the same time, then they stopped, giggling awkwardly, and pulled out of their embrace, keeping just their hands linked.

                  “Wanna come upstairs?” Rachel asked, feeling a lot less anxious (and less likely to vomit). Quinn nodded, smiling when Rachel picked up her bag and carried it upstairs, keeping their hands linked.

                  “So…” Quinn said, biting her lip as she sat, slightly stiffly, on the end of Rachel’s bed.

                  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said again, curling up beside her girlfriend and pulling a pillow into her lap, twisting the corners nervously. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable; I wasn’t thinking about how my little foray into slutty MTV fashion would affect you, and I _should_ have. I wasn’t really thinking at all.”

                  “No, Rach, I’m the one who was being stupid and judgmental. I’m sorry I made you feel guilty. I was just freaked out that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on school with you looking so insanely fucking hot all day…” _That_ brought an immediate smile to the dark-haired girl’s anxious face, along with an adorable pink blush. “I guess I just felt embarrassed, like everyone would look at me and just _know_ what I was thinking…and then I was scared that you needed more attention than I’d ever be able to give you, and I…I wouldn’t be enough for you.” Quinn shook her head helplessly.

                  “Aww, baby”—Rachel threw her arms around Quinn, crawling into her lap and rubbing her nose into her girlfriend’s silky blonde hair. “You are _more_ than enough for me. You’re my everything. You’re my sunshine. There’s no one else in the _world_ I want to be with. You believe me, right?”

                  “I do,” Quinn nodded, smiling shyly.

                  “I think I just got carried away because…because I’ve never felt sexy before. You’re used to it, but it’s new for me…and it’s all because of you. Because when we…when we had sex…” They both blushed and smiled at each other. “It made me feel like this whole new person. Like a _better_ person, a beautiful, desirable person, and I just got so excited, and I felt so proud that you loved me and you wanted me, I just…had to show off a little. It was either this or hiring a skywriter to write ‘ _I did it with Quinn Fabray!’_ over the football field, and that would’ve eaten up my whole college fund.” Quinn giggled delightedly, and Rachel beamed.

                  “You _are_ beautiful and desirable, Rach. You always have been…always.” Quinn stroked Rachel’s cheek, and Rachel leaned in and kissed her. 

                  “I don’t need to hear it from anyone but you,” the little starlet breathed, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. 

                  “You should hear it from everyone, from the whole world. You’re gonna be a star someday, baby…you’re gonna light up Broadway, and they’re _all_ gonna want you.”

                  “But only you get me,” Rachel growled, claiming Quinn’s lips in a fierce, powerful kiss. Their tongues swirled together, Rachel’s hands threading into Quinn’s hair, stroking the soft skin behind her ear. Quinn whimpered, gripping Rachel tightly by the hips and sucking on her bottom lip.

                  “Time for make-up sex?” Rachel asked eagerly when her lip was released from Quinn’s teeth. 

                  “Where are your dads?” Quinn asked breathlessly. 

                  “Oh. Um…yeah. Down the hall. But it’s not like they care.” Quinn raised an eyebrow, and Rachel hastily backpedaled. “I’ll put on some music, okay?” The dark-haired girl scrambled off the bed and grabbed her iPod, hastily scrolling through for something appropriately romantic; then she jammed it into the dock. A moment later, Rufus Wainwright was singing Hallelujah, and Quinn smiled softly, her eyes suddenly full of tears.

                  “This is such a beautiful song,” she whispered, her voice half-breaking as she pulled Rachel back onto the bed.

                  “Hallelujah means _glory to God_ in Hebrew,” Rachel murmured against Quinn’s lips. “That’s how I feel every time I touch you…” Then Quinn was crying, and Rachel was kissing her so gently and so deeply it felt like a prayer; they were worshipping each other’s bodies. They both had tears in their eyes as they undressed each other.

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
_You saw her bathing on the roof  
_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you  
_And remember when I moved in you____  
The holy dark was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah…

………………………………………………………………… 

 

                  The next morning, Quinn had to wear her turtleneck Cheerios top under her uniform, and Rachel wore a thick gauzy scarf around her neck. They passed Brittany and Santana on their way to homeroom, so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t even notice Santana’s frat-boy smirk of approval at their obvious hickey-covering outfits.

                  “Isn’t make-up sex the _best?_ ” Brittany sighed happily.

                  “Yup,” Quinn agreed, squeezing Rachel a little closer as she threw her friend a sly wink.

 

                 


	23. Egg Drop Soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Fabberryland! Mild violence/drama warning for this chap, but nothing too scary--if it were a movie, it would still be rated PG-13. Enjoy :)

 

            Quinn was on her way to glee rehearsal when Ms. Pillsbury stopped her in the hallway and asked her to come to her office to discuss an important matter.

            “Am I in trouble?” Quinn asked warily, her mind automatically racing through the events of the last week for any sign of misconduct. Did sticking a “drop a rock on my head” sign on a football player’s back in retaliation for his cat-calling her girlfriend qualify as trouble?

            “No, no, not at all,” the overly-cheerful guidance counselor assured her, patting her shoulder. “No, this is definitely good news, Quinn. Just come to my office and I’ll show you what we’ve got on the table.”

            “Um…okay…” Quinn frowned suspiciously. “But I’m supposed to be in glee now…”

            “This will only take a minute. Will—I mean, Mr. Schuester—won’t mind at all.” Quinn shrugged and followed Ms. Pillsbury down the hall, dashing off a quick text to her girlfriend so she wouldn’t worry.

            When Quinn arrived in the choir room ten minutes later, she had a blank, slightly shell-shocked look on her face. They were working on duets today, and Rachel was floating around coaching other groups (quite unsolicited, of course, but she felt rather magnanimous about sharing her expertise with her fellow glee clubbers so generously) while she waited for Quinn. When she saw the blonde girl walk in, she immediately frowned at the odd expression on the cheerleader’s face. Abandoning Kurt and Sam (much to their relief), she crossed to where Quinn stood, looking bewildered next to the piano.

            “Quinn, are you all right? What did Ms. Pillsbury need to talk to you about?” Wordlessly, Quinn held up a piece of paper; Rachel took it, her eyes scanning it quickly. Then she screamed.

            “Shh!” Quinn hissed anxiously, glancing around at the rest of the club, all of whom were now staring at them. “You’re not exactly helping me keep a low profile here, Rach.”

            “Quinn, this is amazing! Why on earth would you want to keep a low profile? I’m so proud of you!”

            “What, did your girl win a lezzie cheerleader porno contest?” Puck jeered, grinning appreciatively to show this would be fine by him. 

            “I am _going_ to hurt you, dipshit,” Quinn growled. But Rachel, for once, didn’t even seem to have noticed Puck’s lewd comment.

            “Quinn is a National Merit Semi-Finalist!” The little brunette squealed, waving the letter triumphantly. The eyes of the entire glee club flew straight to Quinn, the astonishment plain on their faces, while the cheerleader just groaned and buried her face in her hands. 

            “That’s great, Rach, thanks. Remind me not to tell you things anymore, will you?”

            “Congratulations, Quinn, that’s wonderful news,” Mr. Schue said bracingly, before returning his attention to Mercedes and Santana’s bickering. 

            “I didn’t know you were smart, Quinn,” Finn added helpfully.

            “Well she _is_ ,” Rachel beamed, still utterly oblivious to the fact that Quinn wasn’t quite sharing her enthusiasm. “She scored in the 98th percentile on the PSATs, which is probably higher than anyone else in this school and maybe even in the district. Even if you don’t get the scholarship, Quinn, it’s quite a feather in your cap to come this far and it will look wonderful on your college applications. I wonder if”—Before Rachel could get another word out, Quinn grabbed her face and kissed her hard. “Wha…huh?” Rachel grinned goofily, while the boys (minus Kurt and, not for nothing, Sam) hooted appreciatively.

            “I’ve learned that that’s the only failsafe way to shut you up,” Quinn shrugged, finally cracking a shy smile. “Now. Thank for your hi-octane enthusiasm, but can we please get back to rehearsal and talk about this later? I really don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

            “But Quinn”—Rachel pouted, looking like a kid who had just been denied a huge pile of candy.

            “ _Please_ , Rach,” Quinn murmured, low enough that only the dark-haired girl could hear her. Rachel huffed, then rolled her eyes in an _oh well_ sort of way, and shrugged.

            “If that’s what you want,” she agreed grudgingly. The blonde girl smiled in relief and nodded, folding up the letter and cramming it away in her backpack. “Well,” Rachel continued brightly, “I’m still extremely excited, so if we’re not going to jump up and down and scream, then we may as well put our energies into rehearsing our duet. Did you bring your sheet music?”

            When Quinn showed her mom the letter, she got more or less the same reaction as she’d gotten from her girlfriend; but now that she wasn’t at school and trying to hold onto her street cred, she could let herself enjoy the praise. Judy squealed and hugged her for almost ten minutes, then immediately started calling every relative they had to share the news; but not before announcing that they _must_ go out to dinner to celebrate, and wouldn’t Quinn like to invite Rachel and her dads along? Quinn was overjoyed at this; her mom and Rachel’s dads had never spent any time together before, aside from a few awkward hours in the hospital when Beth was born. If being known as smart was undesirable at school, at least she was reaping _some_ reward from getting her cover blown. She ran off to call her girlfriend on her cell, arranging for them to all meet at Breadsticks at 7:30.

            ……………………………………………………..

            When Rachel’s phone rang at 7:15, they were already on their way to the restaurant; she thought perhaps Quinn was calling to say they were running a few minutes late and to hold the table. She was _not_ expecting to hear her girlfriend crying desperately on the other end of the phone.

            “Baby, what’s wrong?” Rachel asked, glancing anxiously at her dads in the front seat as they threw her a confused look.

            “Rach, we c-can’t—I—I’m sorry,” the blonde girl stuttered through her tears. Rachel couldn’t understand what was happening, until she heard shouting in the background—a man’s voice, not a woman’s—and the sound of shattering glass. Her blood ran cold.

            “Quinn. Is your father there?” Rachel demanded anxiously.

            “He’s drunk. He d-doesn’t know what he’s d-doing,” Quinn sobbed, her voice almost hysterical. “Rach, I’m scared…I d-don’t know what to do…”

            Ten minutes later, Rachel and her dads were at the Fabrays’ front door. Michael and Jacob tried to get Rachel to stay in the car, but to no one’s surprise, the tiny diva had flatly refused. They rang the doorbell for several minutes, hearing shouting and crashing from inside before it was opened, and Quinn flew into Rachel’s arms, sobbing and nursing a bloody nose. Rachel tried to take her to the car, but the blonde girl wouldn’t leave.

            “No, my mom’s still with him,” she shook her head, displaying her own indomitable stubborn streak. “We can’t leave her.”

            “It’s all right, sweetheart,” Michael said quietly, squeezing Quinn’s shoulder. His deep voice instantly offered security and reassurance, and reluctantly, they all crept back into the house. Rachel pulled Quinn over to the couch, grabbing the Kleenex from the coffee table and tilting the cheerleader’s head back to stop her nosebleed. They were both aware of Rachel’s dads walking toward the source of the shouting in the kitchen.

            “I shouldn’t have let her call him,” Quinn choked, her breathing ragged as she held the bloody Kleenex pressed to her nose. “She s-said he’s still my dad and he’d be proud…she said he should know…he’d be happy for me…”

            “Shh, it’s not your fault Quinn,” Rachel murmured, her heart hammering in her chest as she pulled her girlfriend’s shaking body closer. “Tilt your head back baby, we need to stop this bleeding…there, that’s good…you’re okay, it’s all going to be okay…” The dark-haired girl continued to babble, too terrified for anything else. Quinn’s breathing eased slightly; then another loud crash made them both jump up and run to the kitchen.

            Russell Fabray was face-down on the floor, groaning drunkenly, with Michael’s foot on the back of his neck. Judy stood white-faced in the corner, a welt already rising across her cheekbone, with Jacob beside her, his hand on her arm. Quinn whimpered, and when Judy looked up and saw her daughter’s face, bone-white and smeared with blood, her eyes hardened, and she stood up a little straighter. 

            “Listen very closely, Russell. Pride may have stopped me from involving the police before, but if you don’t leave this house right now, I will take whatever humiliation comes along with the neighbors knowing my ex-husband is a good-for-nothing drunk, _believe_ me. You will _never_ come back here, and you will never, _ever_ lay a hand on my daughter again, or I swear to the Lord himself I will make sure you spend the rest of your natural-born life rotting in prison. It should help you prepare to rot in hell, you son of a bitch.” For a minute, no one spoke. Rachel could feel Quinn’s hand gripping hers, almost as tightly as she had when she was in labor.

            “I’m gonna let you up now,” Michael said evenly, the only one in the room who looked remotely calm. “And you’re gonna walk on out of here, right?”

            “Fuck you, you fucking faggot,” Russell snarled, his lips mashed against the linoleum so his voice came out muffled and slurred. “You brainwashed my daughter with your godless liberal queer agenda! Get your faggy foot off me!”

            “You’re not helping yourself right now, man. Are you gonna walk out of here, or are we calling the police? It’s up to you what happens next, understand?”

            “Let me up, God dammit! I’ll leave, all right?”

            “Okay,” Michael said smoothly, stepping back and taking his weight off Russell’s neck. The drunk man scrambled to his feet, and immediately lunged at Michael with a roar of fury. But his drunkenness made him sloppy, and Michael easily side-stepped him and punched him in the jaw. Quinn screamed and hid her face against Rachel’s shoulder. Then Russell was on the floor again; but this time, no one was restraining him. He was knocked out cold.

            The rest of the evening was a blur, as police cars crowded into the Fabrays’ driveway and statements were given, photos taken of the damage, and the unconscious man carted away in the back of a police cruiser. Quinn was vaguely aware of Rachel’s dad examining her, and assuring her mom that she was all right; then of Rachel gently wiping the tears and dried blood from her face with a warm washcloth. Finally, Quinn realized Rachel was speaking to her.

            “Baby, can you stand up? We’re going back to my house now. You’re gonna stay with us tonight, okay?”

            “I can’t leave”—Quinn protested automatically, but Rachel cut her off.

            “Your mom’s coming too. We’re all going, okay angel?” Quinn blinked, her eyes focusing hazily on her girlfriend.

            “I ruined your shirt,” she noted, her voice hollow as she fingered the bloody imprint on Rachel’s shoulder where she’d pressed her face. 

            “I don’t care about that, Quinn. I care about _you_.” Rachel smoothed Quinn’s hair back, anxiety plain in her eyes as she stared into her girlfriend’s shell-shocked face. “Are you going to be all right?”

            “He…he never hit me before, Rachel. I swear.” Rachel nodded, not knowing what else to do. “I was having such a good day,” Quinn whispered, and she looked so exhausted suddenly; Rachel realized her adrenalin must be draining away now, leaving her empty and spent.

            “I’m so sorry, baby.” Rachel cupped her hand to Quinn’s cheek, and Quinn nuzzled up to her, yawning into her hair. Rachel just didn’t have the heart to prod Quinn off the couch now, and she stayed there cuddling her traumatized girlfriend until their collective parents (minus the one who’d done the traumatizing) came and gently nudged them up and out of the house.

Quinn was quiet and clingy in the car, and remained so in the familiar, comforting environment of the Berry's living room, staying curled up against Rachel's side while their parents tried to achieve some sense of normalcy by ordering Chinese takeout and putting on a movie. Judy Fabray was gracious and warm with Rachel's dads, thanking them again and again for protecting Quinn when she couldn't, and Rachel decided that if there was  _any_  silver lining to the dark cloud of this evening, their parents' newfound alliance was it. Without meaning to, the dark-haired girl found her mind drifting toward future family vacations, with all of them together on a beach in Bermuda, or skiing the slopes in Vale. She imagined two or three doe-eyed, angelic children smiling up at them on Christmas morning, with  _all_  their grandparents present (again, minus the bastard whose name she would never again speak aloud if she could avoid it).

It was a nice image. Rachel smiled softly as she imagined their future, her fingers running lightly through Quinn's hair beside her. Eventually, she noticed that her girlfriend had fallen asleep against her shoulder, and she tried not to jostle her unnecessarily. When the food arrived, though, Rachel kissed the top of Quinn's head and gently shook her awake.

"No, leave us alone," Quinn whimpered, pressing her face into Rachel's neck and curling up tighter against her.

"Shh, it's okay baby," Rachel cooed, scratching her nails lightly up and down Quinn's back to rouse her. "It's just me…we're all safe. Time to have some dinner, okay? Wake up sweetie..." With a soft sigh, Quinn opened her eyes, blinking blearily at Rachel's smiling face.

"Hi," the blonde girl murmured drowsily, reaching out and tracing her fingers over Rachel's lips. Rachel took Quinn's hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"Hi angel face," she replied quietly, looking deeply into Quinn's sleepy hazel eyes like she would never get tired of it. "Sorry to wake you up when you look so exhausted, but dinner's here, and I thought you should eat something."

"Ughh...I'm actually a little queasy," Quinn admitted, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "But  _you_  should eat something." Rachel raised an eyebrow. 

"Double-standard much?" The dark-haired girl teased. "You can skip dinner, but I can't?"

"Rach..."

"I'm just teasing, relax. I got you some egg-drop soup, k?" Quinn smiled softly. Whenever she'd been nauseous at night during her pregnancy, Rachel always ordered egg drop soup— it was one of the only things she could stomach under duress. The fact that her girlfriend had known she'd be feeling sick right now, and had gone out of her way to provide for Quinn's needs when she was too upset and out of sorts to even  _think_ about what she needed for herself, made the miserable knot in her stomach unclench a little.

"Thanks, baby," Quinn murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Rachel's smiling lips. Beaming, the dark-haired girl kissed her back, then pulled her to her feet and into the kitchen, where their parents were chatting like old friends over green tea and scallion pancakes.

           

 


	24. Milestones

 

  

            The next morning, Jacob greeted Rachel and Quinn in the kitchen when they finally stumbled downstairs a little before eleven, and assured them that they didn’t have to go to school today.

            “Thanks,” Quinn sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table and rubbing her temples.

            “Headache?” Rachel asked gently, taking the seat beside her and replacing Quinn’s fingers with her own.

            “Mmhmm,” Quinn agreed absently, closing her eyes. “That feels good, though…” Rachel kept up her light head-rub until Jacob came over with some Tylenol and a glass of water.

            “You really ought to take it easy today, both of you,” He said as Quinn gratefully took the pills. “Last night took a lot out of you.” He squeezed Quinn’s shoulder, and kissed the top of Rachel’s head. 

            “Where’s my mom?” Quinn yawned, rubbing her eyes.

            “She and Daddy are cleaning things up at your house, sweetie. No one wants you going home to bloodstains and broken glass.” Jacob’s hand was still on Quinn’s shoulder, and she leaned against his side, wrapping both arms around his waist in a quiet hug. Jacob ruffled her hair affectionately.

            “Thank you,” she whispered after a silent minute had passed. “If you guys hadn’t been there…I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

            “You’re a part of this family, Quinn. That doesn’t change just because you don’t live here anymore. And I want you to know that will still be true even if you and Rachel ever break up, okay?” 

            “Dad!” Rachel hissed indignantly. “We aren’t going to break up. What a thing to say! Do you want to jinx us?”

            “I don’t think your dad reassuring me that I’m a Berry forever is going to jinx our relationship, Rach,” Quinn said with a small, but sincere smile on her face. Rachel still looked anxious, so Quinn leaned in and kissed her.

            “Well, when you put it like that…” Rachel sighed, and Quinn giggled sleepily, then yawned again. “I’m sensing an all-day movie marathon on the couch in the works. What do you say, sleepyhead?”

            “I say yay,” Quinn smiled, taking a long gulp of the orange juice Jacob put down in front of her.

            “Why don’t you go get started now? I’ll make some breakfast and bring it out when it’s ready. We finally found a decent vegan recipe for blueberry pancakes, if you can believe that.”

            They spent the day watching all three X-Men movies (Quinn’s choice), and Rachel teased Quinn playfully about having a crush on Anna Paquin. When Michael and Judy finally returned from cleaning up the Fabrays’ house, they were chatting like old friends, having reached an agreement that they should all go out for dinner the way they’d planned to the night before, to celebrate Quinn’s achievement as a National Merit semi-finalist properly. They all agreed to meet at Breadsticks in an hour, giving everyone the chance to clean up; and Quinn and her mom went home to shower and change while Rachel and her dads got ready at their house. But to Quinn’s surprise, her doorbell rang while she was still blowing out her hair, revealing a nervous Rachel fidgeting on her doorstep.

            “Hey stranger, haven’t seen you in almost an hour,” Quinn teased, kissing her anxious-looking girlfriend and pulling her into the house. “Weren’t we meeting at the restaurant?" 

            “Yes, but there was something else, I, um…do you remember what day it is, Quinn?” Rachel shifted nervously from one foot to the other, her huge brown eyes looking up tremulously at the blonde girl in front of her.

            “Um…Thursday?” Quinn shrugged, taking Rachel’s hand and pulling her up the stairs. “C’mon, as long as you’re here I want to show you the patterns Brit and I picked out for our Regionals costumes.” Rachel followed Quinn silently, dejection plain on her face, and Quinn almost blew her cover by laughing out loud at the smaller girl’s comically crestfallen expression. When they arrived in the cheerleader’s bedroom, though, she opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a small, jewelry-sized box with a gold ribbon tied around it. Rachel’s jaw dropped.

            “What’s that?”

            “Happy anniversary,” Quinn replied, smirking. Rachel’s eyes lit up, and she threw her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. Quinn laughed and hugged the smaller girl tightly.

            “I thought you forgot!” Rachel squeaked, bouncing onto the bed with the little box gripped tightly in her hands. “Not that I would’ve really blamed you, after everything you went through yesterday, but still, I was disappointed, but now I’m so relieved I won’t even get mad at you for tricking me, you sneaky sneaker…” Rachel babbled as she undid the bow and ripped off the shiny wrapping paper, opening the little box to reveal a small, heavy gold locket with an ornate star engraved on it. In the center of the star was what looked like a real diamond.

            “Oh, Quinn…” Rachel gasped.

            “I’ve heard that gold stars are _kind of your thing_ ,” the blonde girl teased gently, sitting beside her speechless girlfriend on the bed and resting her chin on Rachel’s shoulder. “Do you like it, baby?" 

            “I…I…it’s beautiful. I love it. How could you afford this? It looks so expensive…”

            “Well, yeah, I wouldn’t have been able to just go out and buy this,” Quinn admitted a little sheepishly. “But I didn’t have to—it was my grandmother’s. She left a ton of jewelry to me and my sister, and this one’s been screaming your name for a while now. So I didn’t really buy it for you. I did get it engraved, though.”

            With slightly shaking fingers, Rachel popped the little locket open. On one side was the engraving—their initials, RBB & QCF, in lacy old-fashioned script, plus the date 11/12/09, exactly one year ago, the night they’d kissed for the first time. On the other side of the locket was a tiny photo of the two of them that Rachel recognized immediately; it was from a party at Kurt’s house just a few weeks ago, when Tina had gone camera-happy and spent half the night snapping candids of everyone. Rachel was sitting in Quinn’s lap, arm around her neck, their foreheads touching. Both had the same serene, goofy-happy smile plastered to their faces as they glanced up at the camera, their attention obviously more on each other than on the person taking the picture.

            “Oh my god, Quinn…this is the most beautiful thing anyone has _ever_ given me in my _life_ ,” Rachel gushed, throwing her arms around her girlfriend and squeezing her tight. “I love it, and I love you.” The blonde girl beamed, taking the delicate gold chain from her girlfriend’s hands and putting it around her neck, carefully doing the clasp while Rachel held her hair to one side. Rachel got up, looked at herself in the mirror, and smiled incredulously at her reflection.

            “I just hope you’ll like yours as much,” she gulped, stooping down to remove a slightly larger package from her bag. “Happy anniversary, sunshine.” Quinn squealed happily and grabbed the present, bouncing back onto the bed and tearing off the wrapping paper enthusiastically.

            “Oh my god…” Quinn whispered, her fingers tracing lightly over the worn cloth cover of the obviously very old book, with _Leaves of Grass_ embossed in gold. “Rachel…is this…?”

            “A first edition of your favorite book in the whole wide world? It certainly is. I double-checked the dates myself. Printed in Brooklyn in 1855. Look at the illustration plates…” Rachel flipped through the heavy pages to show Quinn the old-fashioned etchings of Walt Whitman, but Quinn’s eyes were too blurred with tears to see them. 

            “I can’t believe you remembered,” the blonde girl murmured, shaking her head and beaming. “This is the most beautiful book I’ve ever seen…” Closing her eyes, Quinn held the book up to her nose and breathed in the scent of the old cloth binding.

            “Of course I remembered,” Rachel smiled, tucking a lock of blonde hair back behind Quinn’s ear and kissing her lightly. “You were so excited when you saw the paperback copy on my bookshelf, you nearly wet yourself. We fell asleep reading to each other…I knew that night that I wanted you forever.” 

            “Baby…” Quinn sighed, slipping one hand into Rachel’s hair and kissing her deeply. “I want you forever too,” she whispered when they broke apart, hands wandering under each other’s shirts, both of them flushed and breathing erratically. 

            “I can’t believe we have to go sit through dinner with our parents now,” Rachel groaned, making Quinn giggle and duck her head shyly.

            “Yeah…but I’m glad we did this now. I would’ve been all nervous and twitchy if I had to sit through dinner wondering whether you’d like your present.”

            “Likewise,” Rachel agreed, reaching out to fix Quinn’s smudged lipstick with her thumb. “We’ve got a few more minutes, at least…come here.” They curled up against the pillows, holding the book open between them with Rachel’s head on Quinn’s shoulder. Quietly, the blonde girl flipped to the first page and began to read aloud. Rachel made it slightly more of a challenge by kissing Quinn’s neck while she read, giving herself a point every time the blonde girl’s breath caught in her throat.

_The smoke of my own breath,_   
_Echoes, ripples, and buzzed whispers . . ._   
_My respiration and inspiration . . . . the beating of my heart . . . ._

_The passing of blood and air through my lungs,_   
_A few light kisses . . . . a few embraces . . . . a reaching around of arms,_   
_The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag. . . . the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun._

(--Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”)

            They had both completely forgotten about dinner with their parents when a soft knock on Quinn’s bedroom door made them freeze, their hands in various naughty places. “Quinnie, are you ready to go?” Judy called through the door.

            “Um, almost…but Rachel’s here, so you don’t have to wait for us— we can just go in her car. You go ahead, okay Mom? We’ll be right behind you.”

            “Oh! I, um…I’m sorry, girls. All right. Just, um…drive safely, then.” Quinn snickered and Rachel bit her lip, looking slightly mortified, as the sound of Judy’s footsteps retreated down the hall.      

            “Crap, I am _so_ going to have a heart attack all through dinner now,” Rachel moaned, burying her face in Quinn’s hair while the blonde girl continued to giggle. “I can’t believe you think this is funny!”

            “Oh come on, Rach. It _is_ funny. Don’t you remember where we were a year ago at this time? _Exactly_ a year ago?” Rachel frowned.

            “Yes, Quinn, I haven’t gone brain dead in the last five minutes from the power of your lips. Though they _are_ very talented.” 

            “Okay, so…”

            “So…a year ago, at this exact moment, more or less, we had our first kiss. I fail to see how this makes being interrupted by your mom right now less horrifying.”

            “Thank you, miss selective memory. Apparently being interrupted by your dad doesn’t count for as much in your neurons, huh?”

            “Oh…” Rachel blinked. She did remember…but as Quinn jokingly pointed out, the memory of her daddy walking in on them wasn’t nearly as powerful in her brain as the kissing Quinn Fabray part. “Oops.” The dark-haired girl grinned sheepishly. “All right, I concede that it is indeed funny; in the ironic sense if not the satirical.” Quinn smiled, and pressed one final soft kiss to Rachel’s lips. 

            “You are such a geek,” the cheerleader murmured under her breath; but the way she said it made it sound like a compliment. “C’mon, we’d better get to the restaurant before our parents have time to get any more creative visuals.” Rachel pouted.

            “But I’m having fun _here_ ,” the little diva whined, tracing teasing patterns over Quinn’s exposed skin with the tips of her fingers. The blonde girl sighed and arched her back, pushing herself up into her girlfriend’s exploring touch.

            “Well we’ll just have to come back here after dinner, then, won’t we?”

 

           


	25. A First Time for Everything

  

                  Rachel wrapped her scarf around her neck and rubbed her mitten-covered hands together. It had been unseasonably warm up until a few days ago, but now it seemed that November had suddenly remembered that it was supposed to be cold, and was making up for lost time. Normally, the dark-haired girl wouldn’t risk her voice and her health by sitting around on cold metal stadium stands for hours on end in frigid weather like this; but her idea of “normal” had been pretty thoroughly upended once Quinn came into her life, and she wasn’t about to miss the chance to watch her girlfriend cheer. Besides, what if people noticed her absence and thought Quinn was available?! Rachel couldn’t have that.

                  “Cocoa, miss thang?” Blaine asked, offering her a cupful of steaming hot cocoa from the thermos at his feet.

                  “As I have repeatedly told you, Blaine, I’m a vegan. But go ahead and ruin your own vocal chords with hormone-infested dairy products; it will make my victory over you at Sectionals that much easier.”

                  “Ooh, _sass!_ Well I suppose I’ll just have to enjoy this delicious _soy_ hot cocoa all by myself…” He had the cup halfway to his lips when Rachel grabbed it, and the dark-haired boy burst into laughter.

                  “You should’ve said the soy part first,” she sniped; then when she saw his sly grin and realized he was just messing with her, an unwilling smile spread across her face. “Sass yourself,” she added, taking a long sip. “Mmmm.”

                  “Cheers, queers,” Blaine smirked, toasting her with his own cup. Rachel giggled and toasted him back.

                  “I have to admit, it _is_ rather nice to have your company out here. I’m glad Kurt met you, even if we _did_ only send him to Dalton to spy on the Warblers. Everyone else from Glee who comes to football games is out on the field, and though I certainly enjoy watching Quinn shine, she’s not performing every single minute. The actual football part is about as interesting to me as watching paint dry.”

                  “Well thank you darling, you’re not such bad company yourself. Though I have to admit, I _do_ enjoy watching the game…especially since your team always loses.”

                  “Yeah. They suck,” Rachel shrugged disinterestedly. “But our Cheerios are champions!” As she spoke, the buzzer sounded for halftime, and the battered football team trudged to the sidelines as the cheerleaders took the field. Rachel and Blaine both beamed, so focused on the objects of their affection that they didn’t notice the opposing cheer squad at first. But slowly, the uneasy snickering around them got louder, and Rachel finally tore her eyes away from Quinn to see what the other team was doing.

                  “Queerios! Queerios!” The Carmel cheer squad was jeering, their routine a mockery of limp-wristed, prissy sashays. Then they lifted up their captain, sporting a blond wig and bearing a hand-made sign with the words _McKinley High Head Dyke_ scrawled across it in big bubble letters. Rachel’s jaw dropped. Sure, it wasn’t a huge shock to see cheerleaders being homophobic jerks; but this was cheerleaders being homophobic jerks to _other cheerleaders,_ in front of a football stadium full of people. The reactions of said audience were mixed; a few stood up and booed, a few laughed, but mostly people seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed…which, obviously, was the point.

                  “Ignorant assholes,” Blaine growled. Rachel nodded mutely. She wasn’t sure what to do—she knew that Quinn was both proud and headstrong, and for her to intercede might send the message that she didn’t think Quinn could fight her own battles. On the other hand, the blonde girl had never really faced homophobic bullying before—and right now, even from up in the stands, Rachel could see the shocked, deer-in-the-headlights look on her girlfriend’s face as she stood frozen, pompoms dangling limply at her sides, staring at the parody being made of her.

                  Before Rachel reached a decision, Santana spared her by breaking ranks and charging at the other team with her fists. _That_ effectively ended their taunting cheer, and the fiery Latina managed to bloody three faces before Coach Sylvester pulled her off the opposing team and started shouting—not, as everyone expected, at Santana, but rather at the other team’s coach. It was such a shock to see Sue Sylvester actually _defending_ her students, and yelling at another coach about proper sportsmanship and bullying, that Rachel was temporarily transfixed.

                  “Should we go after them?” Blaine asked, jolting Rachel out of her temporary Sue Sylvester shock-and-awe trance. 

                  “Huh?”

                  “Quinn and Kurt. Didn’t you see? Quinn just ran off the field, and Kurt followed her." 

………………………………………………………………………………

                  They found their Cheerios in the girls’ locker room. Quinn was sitting on the cold concrete floor with her back to the lockers and her knees pulled up to her chest, face hidden, crying softly. Kurt was standing above her with his arms crossed, and an impatient look on his face.

                  “Honestly, Quinn, you should be grateful you haven’t had to deal with any of this sooner. Did you think that being a cute blonde cheerleader would protect you from ever getting gaybashed for the rest of your life? _Really,_ I thought you were smart or something.”

                  “Shut your mouth, Kurt Hummel,” Rachel snapped, glaring at him as she crouched down beside Quinn on the floor. Kurt just rolled his eyes at Blaine, who squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. It was obvious Kurt resented Quinn’s thin-skinned reaction to the taunting he’d been enduring stoically all his life. And while in theory, Rachel sympathized—she’d gone through it too, because of her dads—she didn’t want to see her girlfriend suffer through it, either.

                  “Quinn, are you okay? Get off the floor, it’s freezing…c’mon, stand up.” Rachel tugged on her girlfriend’s arm. Quinn stood up and kicked the lockers, hard.

                  “Dyke drama,” Blaine stage-whispered to Kurt, who giggled. Rachel glared at them.

                  “Feel free to leave if you can’t find a way to make yourselves useful,” she snapped at the boys, who immediately dropped their grins.

                  “Look, Rachel, I don’t know what you want us to say,” Blaine shrugged sympathetically. “This is Ohio. Homophobia is everywhere. Just because the two of you are all girly and non-threatening doesn’t make you exempt. Running away from the bullies isn’t helping anything—if anything, it tells them to just keep on doing what they’re doing, because it’s working. You can’t let them chase you off your own field, Quinn.”

                  “I know, okay?” Quinn yelled, kicking the lockers again. “I’m sorry! I’m not the perfect unflappable LGBT youth poster child like you guys. Just give me a freaking minute to get it together, will you? Fuck!” Everyone fell silent then. Rachel put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder, but Quinn shrugged her off. 

                  “Quinn…” Rachel murmured gently, desperate to say the right thing that would make it all better.

                  “Don’t, Rach. Just don’t. Please just leave me alone for a few minutes, okay? I know I can’t hide in here all night, but…please, just let me be.” 

                  “Uhh…okay…” Rachel gulped, blinking back the tears that sprang up as the blonde-haired girl turned her back on her. She just wanted to fix it so badly. “I…I’ll just go back to my seat, then…I’ll wait for you after the game, okay?”

                  “Fine.”

                  After the game, Quinn said she had a headache and just wanted to go home. Normally Rachel would’ve offered (or insisted, more likely) to come along, happy to spend a lazy night in with her girlfriend on the couch, cuddling her until she felt better. But right now, Rachel could tell that Quinn didn’t want company; and even though it felt like a punch in the stomach, she tried not to take it personally. She didn’t want to go to Puck’s party on her own, either, so she just went home, spending the night playing Scrabble and eating soy ice cream with her dads. She didn’t tell them about the incident at the football game; just that Quinn went home early with a headache.

                  The next day was the start of Thanksgiving break, and Rachel went over to Quinn’s as soon as she woke up, without calling first. The blonde girl answered the door still in her pajamas, looking adorably disheveled.

                  “Hi,” Rachel said nervously, twisting the end of her scarf between her fingers. “Can I come in?”

                  “Hmmm, I dunno,” Quinn mused, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What are you gonna do to make it worth my while?” Smiling a hundred-watt Rachel Berry smile, the dark-haired girl slipped her cold fingers into Quinn’s hair and kissed her thoroughly. “Okay, that was definitely while-worthy,” Quinn sighed, and Rachel giggled, following her girlfriend into the warm house.

                  “Quinn, about last night”—

                  “I don’t want to talk about last night, Rach. I know I suck. I totally failed at standing up for myself. I’ll do better next time. Let’s just move on, okay?”

                  “Quinn Fabray, you do _not_ suck.” Rachel scolded, hands on her hips. “Not unless I ask you to, anyway. Then you’re quite good at it.”

                  “Gutterbrain,” Quinn smirked, rolling her eyes.

                  “You love it,” Rachel insisted, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s neck.

                  “I love it,” Quinn agreed, leaning down and kissing her deeply. Rachel sighed blissfully.

                  “So, your mom’s at work, right?”

                  “Mm-hmm,” Quinn agreed, her hands slipping under Rachel’s sweater to tease the small of her back. “Wanna go upstairs? We have a couple of hours to kill before we have to go back to your place.”

                  “What are you talking about? We have all _day_ ,” Rachel disagreed. 

                  “Um, no, we have until 11, which is what time I told your dad I’d come over to be his Thanksgiving sous-chef.”

                  “What? You’re helping my dad cook when you could’ve spent the whole day here with me, in a completely unsupervised house?!”

                  “Well when you say it like _that_ …”

                  “Quinn!”

                  “Rachel!” Quinn laughed at the indignant pout on the smaller girl’s face. “You know I like to cook, _and_ I miss spending time with your dads since I moved out. And furthermore, Miss Berry, it was your idea for me and my mom to have Thanksgiving at your house. I _have_ to help. Now do you want to make the most of the free time we _do_ have, or would you rather just pout till it’s time to go?”

                  “Furthermore?” Rachel repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I think my speech patterns are finally starting to rub off on you, blondie.” 

                  “I can think of a few other things I’d rather have you rub on me,” Quinn murmured huskily, twirling a lock of Rachel’s hair between her fingers. 

                  “ _Now_ who’s the gutterbrain?” Rachel smirked, grabbing Quinn’s hand and pulling her toward the stairs.

 

 

                 

 

 

 


	26. A Very Faberry Thanksgiving

 

 

                  Quinn dragged a pouting Rachel home promptly at 11am on Thanksgiving day, when she’d promised to help Jacob, Rachel’s stay-at-home dad, with the food prep. Rachel whined all the way about their interrupted naked time, until Quinn not-so-gently reminded her that she didn’t have to come if she didn’t want to, and that if all she could do was complain, maybe she’d rather just stay at Quinn’s house and pout all by herself. That effectively shut the little diva up, though Quinn remained unconvinced as to whether or not there would really be any more pouting. In the end, Rachel gave in and said that if peeling potatoes was how Quinn _really_ wanted to spend her vacation day, then she’d help, too, just to spend time with her. And once they had some holiday music playing, and hot mulled cider to sip, spending the day in the kitchen turned out to be more fun than Rachel cared to admit. It wasn’t long before they were singing along to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” on the radio, and attacking each other with fistfuls of flour over the kitchen island. Jacob was happy to slip away when the doorbell rang, hollering over his shoulder that they had better clean up that mess before the family arrived.

                  “Do you surrender?” Quinn giggled, her fistful of flour poised over Rachel’s head. The blonde girl’s face was already thoroughly powdered, streaks of flour sticking to her hair and eyelashes.

                  “Never!” Rachel cried, bravely closing her eyes as Quinn’s flour-bomb exploded over her head. They were both laughing and coughing in the cloud of powdery whiteness when the kitchen door opened again, revealing a figure too diminutive to be Rachel’s dad through the floury fog.

                  “Good lord, what kind of baked-goods riot have I stumbled into?” Kurt’s prim voice cut through the raucous laughter, and both girls felt their giggles taper off as they looked into his clear, slightly anxious blue eyes.

                  “Kurt…what brings you to my kitchen on this lovely Thanksgiving day?” Rachel asked formally, which might have seemed silly in the context of their giggling and flour-fighting if it were someone else; but Rachel (and Kurt, for that matter) defaulted to formality and pomp whenever uncertainty or anxiety arose. Right now, Quinn felt very aware of both. 

                  “I’m sorry to disturb your, um…whatever it is you’re doing here,” Kurt gestured around the flour explosion covering the half-completed baking projects scattered around the Berry’s kitchen, “But I just wanted to drop by with this pumpkin loaf, to apologize for my behavior last night.” He pushed the brightly-wrapped loaf pan into Quinn’s hands, adding hastily, “It’s organic and sugar-free, of course. Cheerios-diet approved.”

                  “Um…thanks,” Quinn said warily, putting the peace-offering aside and dusting off her hands on her jeans.

                  “After you left, I just felt awful about how unsympathetic I was,” Kurt continued, obviously prepared to give a little speech about exactly how sorry he was, and why—not unlike Rachel, Quinn thought fleetingly. “At first I didn’t understand why I was reacting that way; but I think I was just jealous that you were having such an easy time being out at school, when I’d been getting teased and tossed in dumpsters since third grade. I know it’s nasty and unfair, but there was a part of me that was glad to see the all-mighty Quinn Fabray finally get gaybashed.” Kurt shrugged apologetically, looking down at his shoes. “You know what they say—misery loves company.”

                  “I understand,” Quinn nodded quietly, reaching out and squeezing Kurt’s delicate hand in her own. “And you’re right—it _is_ nasty and unfair when idiots like Karovsky and Azimio go after you. I don’t blame you for being impatient with me when I gave up so easily…when you’ve been fighting so hard for so long…”

                  “No, Quinn, I should have remembered that it was new for you, and done my part to help see you through, rather than tear you down even more. We’re a team, after all—we have to stick together. Right, Rachel?” Kurt directed himself to the tiny brunette scowling in the corner, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. She had her _nobody messes with my girl_ face on, and Quinn wasn’t too proud to admit she kind of liked how nervous it made Kurt. But just for a second.

                  “Of course we do,” Quinn hastily agreed, throwing her arms around Kurt’s neck in a floury hug. “And of course I forgive you—if you can forgive _me_ for not standing up for _you_ more, all these years. I promise, from now on, we look out for each other. Right, Rach?” Blue and hazel eyes both looked hopefully to brown then; and finally Rachel huffed and uncrossed her arms.

                  “Well, we _are_ a team,” the little brunette admitted grudgingly. “And if we’re going to make it to Nationals, we’re certainly going to need all hands on deck along the way. So, yes, of course we should look out for each other. Though I’m fairly certain the football team already TP’d the Carmel team’s bus in retribution for last night’s incident, anyway.”

                  “It’s good to have a few football goons on _our_ side for once,” Kurt agreed, flashing the girls his dazzling (if now flour-smudged) smile. 

                  “Yes, and we know who we have to thank for that, don’t we?” Rachel asked pointedly, wrapping her arm around her girlfriend’s hip possessively.

                  “Rachel, stop,” Quinn blushed, though she leaned into the embrace and draped her own arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders. “I’m not, like, the official jock outreach liaison or anything. But maybe we should ask Santana if she wants the job? I don’t think there’s anyone dumb enough to sass her on the field.”

                  After Kurt left, Quinn and Rachel cleaned up their mess in the kitchen, and left Jacob to finish the cooking while they went upstairs to shower. When Rachel came out of the bathroom, fresh and clean and wrapped in a towel, she was expecting her girlfriend to pounce on her immediately—Quinn never could resist Rachel fresh from the shower. But this time, the blonde girl didn’t even look up when her girlfriend came into the room. Frowning, Rachel crossed to where Quinn sat, hunched over the desk, to see what she was looking at.

                  “Missing her today, aren’t you?” Rachel asked gently, tugging on a lock of Quinn’s golden hair. 

                  “Yeah,” Quinn whispered, not looking up from the photo lying on the desk: a smiling baby with wispy brown hair and hazel eyes flecked with green, sitting up and waving her rattle gleefully at the camera. Behind the photo was the letter from Beth’s adoptive parents, Jack and Rob Morgan-Greene, filling Quinn in on all the milestones in Beth’s life since their last letter and photo at the end of August. Rachel knew everything in the letter; she knew the seven-month-old was now crawling and eating solid food, loved bananas and tickle-me-elmo, and that she was a veritable prodigy when it came to finger–painting. She knew all this because she was the one who read the letters aloud to Quinn, who couldn’t bear to read them herself. Rachel also knew that each of the three letters Quinn had received ended with an open invitation for Quinn to come visit them in Cincinnati; so far, she’d declined them all.

                  “Maybe it’s time to take a trip to Cincinnati,” Rachel said quietly, rubbing her thumb over the back of Quinn’s neck. Quinn always liked that.

                  “Would you come?” Quinn asked, her voice barely a whisper.

                  “Of course, angel,” Rachel murmured, kissing Quinn’s temple. Quinn looked up, finally, and gave her girlfriend a sad, but beautiful smile.

                  “Okay,” she nodded.

                  An hour later, the Berry house was full to bursting with Thanksgiving guests—Quinn and her mother, of course, plus Rachel’s Aunt Sandy and her grown son, Leon, with his wife Amy and their baby daughter Lucy, now fourteen months old. Rachel realized belatedly that having a baby at Thanksgiving dinner might be hard for Quinn; but what could she do? She tried to keep her girlfriend engaged in constant conversation so her attention wouldn’t wander to the baby’s end of the table, bragging again to all her relations about Quinn’s achievement as a National Merit Semi-Finalist; but she still noticed the baby shooting playful peek-a-boo looks their way, and Quinn peeking shyly back. And when little Lucy started fussing halfway through dinner, forcing her mother to release her from her high-chair, the baby toddled straight to Quinn, squealing and stretching out her chubby little arms in the universal symbol for _pick me up!_

                  Rachel’s insides twisted in panic, but Quinn didn’t even bat an eyelash, picking up the baby and plopping her in her lap without breaking the conversation with her mom, Jacob and Michael about what songs they were hoping to sing at Sectionals. Rachel watched her girlfriend, transfixed and uncharacteristically silent as she took in the calm, natural way Quinn played with the baby’s curious fingers as she talked, bouncing her lightly on one knee without even seeming to notice what she was doing. It made Rachel’s heart thud with fierce love for the blonde girl beside her, once again plunging her into an idyllic future fantasy of this same scene, maybe ten years down the line, with _their_ baby in Quinn’s lap, and her wedding ring on Quinn’s finger.

                  It was a beautiful fantasy; and Rachel knew, she just knew deep in the center of her being, that someday it would be real. “I love you,” She whispered low in the blonde girl’s ear, wrapping her hand around Quinn’s and the baby’s in her lap. Lucy cooed delightedly, her free hand immediately reaching up to grab and handful of Rachel’s hair; out of the corner of her eye, the dark-haired starlet noticed the adults’ beaming smiles of approval just as Quinn turned her head, and unselfconsciously kissed her on the lips.

                  “I love you more,” Quinn murmured.

                  Later, when the table was cleared and the guests had all gone home, Rachel left Quinn asleep on the couch in front of Project Runway and slipped upstairs to call the Morgan-Greene family and arrange a visit to Cincinnati. She was surprised at how nervous she felt as the phone rang, hot sweat springing up on the back of her neck as a pleasant male voice picked up.

                  “Hello, Morgan-Greene residence, happy Thanksgiving!”

                  “Um, hi Mr. Morgan-Greene…this is Rachel Berry. I’m Quinn Fabray’s girlfriend?” 

                  “Yes, of course we remember you, Rachel. How’s everything in Lima? How’s Quinn?” 

                  “She’s a National Merit Semi-Finalist,” Rachel blurted out nervously, unable to think of anything more appropriate. And, really, she never got tired of bragging about her brilliant girlfriend.

                  “No kidding? Well that’s fantastic! I’m sure Jack will be thrilled to hear it—I know he’s hoping that Beth will grow up to be a science geek like him.” 

                  “Yeah,” Rachel nodded against the phone, strangely relieved not be the one to bring up the baby first. “Well, um, about Beth…we’d like to take you up on your offer to come visit her soon.”

……………………………………………………………………………… 

                  Rachel was sitting at her desk with her math homework when Quinn stumbled in, yawning and rubbing her eyes, an hour later. Her golden blonde hair was adorably rumpled, and there was a line down the side of her face where her cheek had pressed into the edge of the couch cushion. Rachel found the entire effect of ‘sleepy Quinn’ painfully adorable, and immediately abandoned her math notes to wrap her arms around her girlfriend’s neck and cover her face with kisses.

                  “Did you have a good nap, sunshine?” the dark-haired girl murmured, running her fingers through Quinn’s golden locks and lightly rubbing her scalp.

                  “Mmhmm,” Quinn purred, closing her eyes in appreciation of Rachel’s indulgent head-rub. “I could’ve slept longer, but I was afraid I’d be up all night…don’t wanna mess up my sleep schedule.”

                  “That’s a highly advisable plan, Quinn. Especially because we’re going to have a very early day tomorrow—it would be difficult to get up at 5am if you’re not getting to bed early the night before.”

                  “ _Why_ exactly are we getting up at 5am on a vacation day, babe?” Quinn frowned, her unenthusiastic expression conveying just how much she valued sleep over other concerns during school vacation. “If it has anything to do with black Friday, then you can just forget about it—I’d rather get slushied at Homecoming than fight my way through those psychotic, mindless mobs just to get 20% off Guitar Hero Rock Warriors or whatever.” 

                  “We’re not going Christmas shopping,” Rachel smiled nervously, feeling the sweat spring up on the back of her neck again. “We’re going to Cincinnati to see Beth.”

                  _“What?”_ Quinn’s warm, sleepy expression turned hard and icy in an instant. Rachel felt her heart sink, and her stomach clench nervously under her girlfriend’s furious glare.

                  “Well, I just—you said—I thought”—Rachel stammered, her cheeks flushing bright red as she hastily tried to explain herself. 

                  “You thought you’d just decide _for_ me, as usual? God Rachel, I know you like to be in charge of _everything_ , but I would’ve expected you to at _least_ respect my right to decide for myself when I’m ready to visit my own daughter!”

                  “Quinn, I’m sorry! I was just trying to help! You said you wanted me there, so…”

                  “Yeah, I wanted you there. I didn’t want you to just take over. You had no right to go behind my back with this, Rachel.” Quinn’s face was flushed, and Rachel shrank back, her eyes welling up with tears.

                  “I’m sorry…I w-wasn’t t-trying to go b-behind your back…” Rachel gulped, trying to control her stuttering tears; she was hurt and confused, and didn’t want to be a baby on top of it. “I…I’ll call them back and tell them we can’t come tomorrow. I’ll tell them whatever you want. It’s completely your decision, okay? I’m sorry…” Rachel sniffled and wiped her eyes hastily on her sleeve as her stomach bunched up in knots of misery. She heard Quinn sigh heavily.

                  “No…don’t do that. I mean…if they’re already expecting us…” Rachel looked up hopefully, taking in Quinn’s pained expression. “We should probably just go.”

                  “Only if you want to,” Rachel shook her head, wiping away the last of her tears and sitting beside the blonde girl on the bed, lightly squeezing her knee.

                  “I do,” Quinn admitted, slipping her hand into Rachel’s on her knee. “I’m sorry, Rach…I didn’t mean to get so angry. You didn’t deserve that, you were just trying to help me do something I was afraid to do myself. I’m sorry…”

                  “It’s okay, baby,” Rachel sighed, pulling Quinn down into a tight hug, wrapping arms and legs around the shaking blonde. “I think that ‘first visit to the baby you gave up for adoption’ goes in the get-out-of-jail-free column as far as freak-outs go.” Quinn laughed weakly against Rachel’s shoulder.

                  “So we’re going to Cincinnati.”

                  “Yeah.” 

                  “…At 5am.” 

                  “Yeah.” 

                  “Okay then…but if you expect me to get behind the wheel at that ungodly hour, you’re gonna have to entertain me. And I get control of the iPod.”

 


	27. Beth

 

            Quinn pulled up in front of a neat two-story colonial on a well-manicured street, and cut the engine. She stared straight ahead, gripping the wheel tightly in both hands; then she started to hyperventilate.

            “I can’t do this,” she choked, her voice sharp with panic. “Oh God, I’m freaking out…I c-can’t breathe…” 

            “It’s okay Quinn, you’re just having a panic attack,” Rachel said sympathetically, pulling a small paper bag out of her purse and handing it to her shaking girlfriend. “Just relax and breathe into this, and you’ll be fine. Shh, it’s all right…” Rachel rubbed Quinn’s back while the blonde girl pressed the paper bag over her nose and mouth, breathing shallow, jagged breaths until her heart rate began to calm, and a little bit of color returned to her pale cheeks. She closed her eyes, and sighed heavily.

            “Do you always carry a paper bag around in your purse?” she asked wryly, lowering the crumpled bag and wiping the cold sweat from her forehead.

            “Ah, no. I merely thought there was some likelihood that you might need it today,” Rachel admitted, folding the little paper sack back up and tucking it neatly away.

            “Thanks,” Quinn murmured, grinning weakly.

            “You’re welcome,” Rachel smiled back encouragingly. “Do you feel better now, babe?”

            “Do you remember that scene in Alien when the creature explodes out of the guy’s stomach?” Quinn joked, rather badly.

            “I promise to ensure that no foreign bodies erupt from any of your internal organs,” Rachel replied solemnly, a tiny twitch of a smile on her face as she squeezed Quinn’s cold hand.

            “Rachel…I don’t know if I can do this.” Quinn’s hazel eyes were wide and terrified as she looked into her girlfriend’s dark brown, searching for some anchor, something she could trust and believe in more than she trusted herself right now. Rachel leaned in, taking Quinn’s face firmly between her hands and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to her trembling lips. Quinn leaned automatically into her.

            “You _can_ do this, Quinn. And more than that, I know you _want_ to do this. We can turn around and go back to Lima right now…but I think you’ll regret it if we do.” Rachel stroked Quinn’s temples with her thumbs as she spoke, their faces close enough to feel each other’s warm breath. Quinn sighed, and pressed her forehead against Rachel’s, closing her eyes.

            “Do you know how hopelessly, utterly lost I would be without you, Rach?”

            “Yes, I think so…but you can keep telling me anyway,” Rachel beamed. Quinn snorted and shook her head.

            “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be able to stand it—being in there. Will you be mad if I want to leave after 20 minutes or something?” 

            “Of course not, baby. Whatever you want today, you get—I’ll be right behind you, no matter what.” 

            “Yeah?” Quinn raised an eyebrow disbelievingly; it was profoundly unlike Rachel to give her the reins without any qualifiers or addendums.

            “Mm-hmm,” Rachel nodded, smiling magnanimously. Her expression faltered slightly when she saw the devilish glint returning to Quinn’s eyes.

            “Okay then. Let’s go, my little slave-girl.”

            “Quinn, I never said”— 

            “Ahh, too late now!” Quinn smirked, wagging her finger at her girlfriend as she finally opened the car door and stepped out into the frosty street. Rachel rolled her eyes, but returned her girlfriend’s mischievous grin as she followed. 

            It was Jack who answered the door, tall and thin with a swimmer’s build, his blonde hair and beard neatly trimmed, with kind hazel eyes—not unlike Quinn’s and Beth’s—behind wire-rimmed glasses. “Hello girls, come in! Come in! It’s freezing out there.” He wasn’t shy about ushering them into the foyer with a hand on each of their shoulders, propelling them towards the warmth and delicious smells wafting in from the kitchen. “I hope you didn’t eat on the road, because Rob’s cooking up one of his signature holiday breakfasts—and we’ve even got some vegan selections for Rachel, which I _guarantee_ you no one else here will eat.”

            “Thank you, that sounds lovely,” Quinn smiled graciously, allowing Jack to take her coat and bag. Once they’d hung their coats, Jack ushered them into the bright kitchen, where his husband stood at the stove, slightly shorter and stockier, with sandy brown hair that hung over his ears. He waved hello to them, and Rachel greeted him back; but Quinn’s full attention was on the playpen in the corner of the room. All her senses seemed to sharpen and focus on the little head of blonde hair that was just visible inside.

            “Would you like to hold her?” Jack asked, suddenly beside Quinn with his hand on her shoulder again. Quinn just nodded, the lump in her throat too thick to speak. Her knees were trembling, too, and she was relieved that Jack guided her to a chair at the kitchen table before getting the baby out of her playpen. Rachel’s gaze went back and forth between Quinn and the baby, her own nerves suddenly skyrocketing as she tried to balance Quinn’s anxiety with her own—in some ways, though she would never say so to Quinn, she felt that she’d given this baby up, too.

            As soon as the little face cleared the top of the playpen, Rachel felt her heart squeeze in her chest, so intense was the resemblance between mother and daughter. Beth had Quinn’s exact eyes, her cute little nose; her slightly serious and inquisitive expression. This baby was pure Quinn.

            “Oh…hi there,” Quinn whispered, her voice awed and reverent as she took her baby in her arms. Beth gurgled, looked up into Quinn’s hazel eyes, and beamed at her with a wide, toothless grin. Rachel couldn’t help pulling her chair a little closer to Quinn’s, letting one hand rest on her girlfriend’s leg. She didn’t want to take over—Quinn had been very clear about that—but she did want to let her girlfriend know that she was here, offering her whatever silent assurances she could.

            “You’re so beautiful, aren’t you?” Quinn cooed to the baby, who continued to smile delightedly up at her, grabbing fistfuls of her sweater in chubby little fists.

            “She’s absolutely angelic,” Rachel gushed, leaning into Quinn’s shoulder. Beth noticed the other girl then, blinking as her gaze shifted from Quinn to Rachel; and she reached out one tiny hand toward the dark-haired girl. Rachel caught her outstretched fingers, and Beth shrieked with delight, waving her hand up and down with Rachel’s thumb held firmly in her grip.

            “Greetings and salutations,” Rachel said formally to the infant, and Quinn laughed, all the tension and anxiety leaving her body in a rush.

            “Do you want to hold her, Rach?” Quinn asked quietly, and Rachel nodded, silent for once as she kept her gaze locked on the tiny face beaming up at her. Beth squealed happily as she was handed off from Quinn to Rachel, delighted with all the attention.

            “She’s so like you, Quinn,” Rachel sighed, cradling the baby’s warm weight in her lap as her eyes swam with a sudden onslaught of tears. She tried to blink them away, but they just spilled down her cheeks.

            “Hoping she’d look more like you?” Quinn joked, brushing Rachel’s tears away with her thumb.

            “I’m sorry,” Rachel sniffed, tearing her gaze away from the baby to look up at Quinn, whose sad smile was full of understanding. “I know I’m not supposed to cry…I’m supposed to be strong for you…”

            “Don’t be an idiot, of course you can cry. We both gave her up.” Quinn’s eyes had turned bright with tears, too, and they were both relieved when Rob came over and asked if they were ready to have the best breakfast of their lives.

            “I’m sure you’re an excellent chef, Rob, but you can’t possibly know that Quinn already holds the world’s best breakfast title with her Christmas-morning crepes,” Rachel explained politely, accepting a plate with French toast, tofu scramble, and what looked like some kind of veggie-sausage. “All this stuff is vegan, right?”

            “Oh yes, this _is_ a gay household, you know. We do have other vegan friends.” Rob winked at her, and she smiled. Across the table, Jack was strapping Beth into her highchair. The baby squealed and banged on the tray until he gave her a spoonful of mashed bananas.

            “Thanks for feeding us; this looks really great,” Quinn added politely, pouring a dollop of syrup on her French toast. 

            “You’re only saying that ‘cause you get bacon,” Rachel teased, and Quinn stuck out her tongue. Rachel giggled and kissed the end of her nose.

            “Good lord, you two are just sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity,” Rob beamed, making them both blush and break apart, applying themselves virtuously to their breakfasts.

            “Babe, you’re embarrassing them,” Jack scolded, swatting his husband’s shoulder.

            “It’s okay, we’re used to it,” Quinn smiled shyly, her nails grazing Rachel’s knee under the table. “Rachel’s dads tease us all the time.” 

            “And how are things at school? Has the utopian age of diversity and acceptance finally arrived in America’s youth?” Rob asked, one eye on his guests and one eye on the spoonful of bananas he was feeding the baby, who looked sticky and delighted by now.

            “I wish I could say that it had…but not everyone at our school has it as good as we do,” Quinn sighed, nibbling appreciatively on her bacon. “I’m not sure how it worked out so well for us, but ever since I got my spot back as head cheerleader, we’ve become kind of a power-couple at our school…but our friend Kurt is still getting tossed in the dumpster and shoved into lockers. I wish I knew how to make it stop.” Quinn stabbed at her French toast, and Rachel scratched her nails affectionately over her girlfriend’s back, touched as always to hear Quinn speaking so protectively of their less fortunate friend. “It’s so unfair…”

            “Oh, honey, we know how he feels,” Jack sighed, reaching out and taking the bowl of bananas from Rob, switching their positions so Rob could eat his breakfast and Jack could feed Beth for a while. “But if you only knew how much change we’ve seen since we were your age…it’s incredible how far we’ve come as a society. If you had told me when I was 16 that when I was 34 I’d be able to openly marry my husband, adopt a baby, _and_ see gay characters on primetime network television, I swear I would’ve thought it was a fantasy. Believe me, it _will_ get better for him, too.” 

            “We’ll tell him you said that,” Rachel smiled sadly, popping a bite of French toast in her mouth. “This _is_ really good,” she added reluctantly.

            After breakfast, Rob led them to Beth’s room and spread out all her favorite toys on the floor, while Jack stayed behind to do the dishes. Rachel found the tickle-me-Elmo that was Beth’s favorite, and the baby shrieked with delight as the dark-haired girl made the stuffed animal talk and play with all of Beth’s toys in turn (Quinn voiced the other animals as needed). Eventually, the sounds of laughter turned to grumpy whining, and Rachel wondered aloud whether she’d overdone the dramatic tension of Elmo’s tea party with President Obama.

            “She’s just tired, Rach,” Quinn said, smiling gently as she stood up with Beth in her arms, rocking her gently against her shoulder as the baby fussed and rubbed her eyes.

            “Yep, I’m afraid it’s just about nap time for our little star,” Rob agreed, holding out his arms for the baby. Rachel watched as Quinn silently handed her over, the pain in her eyes obvious (at least to Rachel) as the warm weight of the baby’s little body left her arms.

            “I need to use the bathroom,” Quinn murmured, and hastily slipped from the room. Rachel glanced awkwardly after her.

            “I’ll just let you…” Rachel gestured from Rob to the crib, indicating that she’d leave him to finish putting the baby down for her nap alone, and he nodded, his look equally awkward, but compassionate. Rachel tiptoed down the hall uncertainly, wondering whether the right thing to do was leave her girlfriend alone to process whatever feelings she was having right now, or to go check up on her. She wavered in the middle of the hall, until she heard a choked sob from the bathroom. The sound pulled Rachel in magnetically; she was, quite simply, physically incapable of walking away from the sound of Quinn crying.

            “Quinn? Can I come in, baby?” Rachel knocked very lightly on the door, waiting patiently until it opened, and she was allowed inside. Quinn pulled her to the floor, and they stayed wrapped around each other, trembling and crying softly, for a few long, quiet minutes. Rachel stroked Quinn’s hair, and Quinn hid her face against Rachel’s throat until she could breathe normally again.

            “Can we go home now?” Quinn whispered, finally picking her head up to look in Rachel’s eyes, which were just as red as her own. Rachel nodded, wiping the tear tracks from Quinn’s pink cheeks with her thumbs. “You’re so awesome, Rachel,” Quinn sniffled, smiling weakly.

            “It’s easy, when I’m with you. You make me a better person, Quinn…you know that, don’t you?” The dark-haired girl said simply, stroking her Cheerio’s hair back behind one ear. Quinn sighed, wiping Rachel’s tear tracks away the same way her girlfriend had just done to her; then kissed her urgently for a few minutes before they pulled apart, panting, and scrambled to their feet, both utterly spent and overwhelmed. 

            Jack and Rob were gracious when they said their goodbyes, and Quinn surprised Rachel by asking her to drive on the return trip to Lima—normally, the blonde girl was extremely protective of her car, and never let anyone else behind the wheel. But Rachel swallowed her shock and willingly took the keys. As they approached the on-ramp to the highway, she turned to ask her girlfriend if she wanted to stop somewhere to get a coffee for the road; but Quinn was fast asleep in her seat, mouth half-open, with her head lolling on her shoulder. Rachel slipped a hand over Quinn’s knee, and left it there all the way back to Lima.

 

           


	28. Fluffy Monsters and Herbal Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm going to repost with the notes exactly as they were when I first posted this chapter in real-time with the show:
> 
>  
> 
> The Hebrew word חי means “life,” and is generally considered very lucky, popping up often in Jewish folklore & culture. It’s pronounced like “high,” but instead of an h sound at the beginning, you make a sound like you have a piece of popcorn stuck in the back of your throat. You’ll understand why I’m telling you this when you get to it. There’s a pun involved ;)
> 
> This chapter is heavily influenced by my reading earlier this weekend about production being halted on Glee for a while because Dianna has tonsillitis. I was most upset with Lea, because the same day that Dianna tweeted that she was home sick in bed, Lea was tweeting about what a beautiful day it was and how she went hiking and had a massage. I was very displeased with Ms. Lea for this. I don’t know about you guys, but my love for Faberry stems directly from my love for Achele, and all the sweet, adorable, and downright hot photos of the two of them all over each other everywhere they go. So this is Rachel’s rebuttal, if you will. Extra-fluffy. Serve with hot chocolate and marshmallows!

 

            It was snowing when they got back to Lima, fat, heavy flakes swirling down through the sky and sticking to the slick road. Rachel was grateful they were almost home when it started to get bad, and she pulled cautiously into her driveway with a heavy sigh of relief. It wouldn’t help her chances of driving Quinn’s car again if she totaled it. She killed the ignition and turned toward the blonde girl in the passenger seat, still fast asleep. She looked so exhausted, Rachel hated to wake her. Reluctantly, she reached out and stroked the sleeping girl’s cheek, leaning in to plant a few soft kisses on her face. Quinn whimpered and opened her eyes.

            “Oh…Rachel…” Quinn’s voice cracked, husky and disoriented with sleep, as her hands clutched anxiously at her flat stomach. “I had a bad dream…”

            “What did you dream, angel?” Rachel murmured, curling herself closer to the passenger seat and keeping her hand on Quinn’s face, gently stroking her pale skin.

            “I was pregnant again, and…and when the baby was born…it was dead,” Quinn sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut as if to look away from the nightmarish images in her head.

            “Oh, Quinn,” Rachel whimpered, slipping both arms around her girlfriend’s neck and hugging her as tight as she could over the center console. “C’mon, we’re home now. Let’s get inside and I’ll make us some nice hot tea, okay?”

            “Maybe I should just go home,” Quinn sniffed, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes as Rachel released her. 

            “Oh…if that’s what you want,” Rachel nodded miserably, sitting back in her own seat and rubbing her temples, which had been pounding for most of the drive home. “I understand if you need to be alone right now.”

            “It’s not that,” Quinn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes again. “It’s just that my head hurts, and I’m going to be really crappy company, and I don’t want to make you take care of me any more today.”

            “But I _like_ taking care of you, Quinn,” Rachel pouted, wrapping her arms around herself as the residual heat drained out of the car. “And anyway, I have a headache, too. It’s a natural response to the stressful day we’ve had, and all the crying besides. Please just come inside, and we can take a nap and cuddle till we feel better, okay?”

            “That sounds really good,” Quinn nodded, with a small, sad smile. Then she shivered, zipped up her coat, and followed her girlfriend out of the car, making the short dash through the snow to the warmth of the Berry’s house.

            As soon as they got inside, Rachel went straight to the medicine cabinet and came back with a bottle of Tylenol, giving two to Quinn and then swallowing two herself. Quinn murmured her thanks, still shivering slightly, then doubled over with a weak fit of coughing, followed by a soft sneeze.

            “Bless you!” Rachel exclaimed, watching her girlfriend sniffle and rub wearily at her nose. “Maybe you should have some Emergen-C instead of tea,” the dark-haired girl frowned, reaching out to feel Quinn’s face again with the back of her hand. “You sound like you’re catching a cold.”

            “Whatever you want,” Quinn shrugged, flopping down on the couch and pulling the afghan over herself. Rachel’s frown deepened—Quinn _hated_ the taste of Emergen-C, and the last time Rachel had forced it on her, she’d argued relentlessly that she wasn’t sick and didn’t need it _. It’s just been a stressful day,_ the dark-haired girl reminded herself _. We’re both exhausted. That’s all_. She mixed up two glasses of Emergen-C with fresh orange juice, which masked the bad taste a bit and added even more vitamins to the mixture, and they both gulped it down without talking. Then Rachel crawled under the afghan and nuzzled up to Quinn, who was still shivering slightly, and they both fell promptly asleep.

            Two hours later, Rachel awoke feeling rested and refreshed. Her headache was gone, and the vitamin boost combined with mid-afternoon nap had been exactly what her body needed to sort out the after-effects of the emotional visit with baby Beth. Quinn, on the other hand, was still out cold, her alabaster skin even paler than usual except for the dark pink flush across her cheeks. She really didn’t look well. Rachel reached out to feel the sleeping girl’s forehead, but at the gentle touch, Quinn gasped and jerked backwards, her eyes flying open in alarm.

            “No, don’t!” she rasped, her voice no more than a strangled croak. Then she winced, her hand going automatically to her throat. “Ow…”

            “Shh, don’t talk Quinn. You lost your voice. Poor baby, you sound just like me when _I_ had tonsillitis…lucky we still have all the special teas and herbal remedies from when I had it. I’ll call Daddy and have him phone in a prescription for some antibiotics, too.” Rachel kissed Quinn’s forehead, feeling the feverish warmth it radiated, and sprang into action. The blonde girl didn’t say a word, which worried Rachel even more than the fever or the raspy hoarseness in her voice. She’d never seen Quinn too sick to argue before.

            When she returned with the steaming herbal tea and an ice pack, Rachel found her girlfriend curled up in a ball of misery on the couch, sniffling and shivering. Sweat-slicked tendrils of hair clung to her forehead, and the tip of her nose was starting to turn pink to match her feverish cheeks. “Rachel, I don’t feel good,” she croaked weakly, curling up with her head in her girlfriend’s lap the moment Rachel sat down on the couch.

            “Shh, I know baby…but you can’t talk, okay? Your voice needs rest so it can heal.” Rachel put the tea down on the table to cool a bit, and pressed the ice pack to Quinn’s forehead. The blonde girl sighed and closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the cool sensation. “There now, you just need to rest. You’ll feel better in a few days…and I’ll be right here to cuddle you and take care of you until then.” Quinn opened her eyes and shifted a bit, so she could roll onto her back and look up into Rachel’s warm brown eyes, fixed lovingly on her own. She smiled weakly. Then she held up one hand, palm flat, and pantomimed writing on it with her other hand.

            “Oh, yes, of course you can write down what you want to say…here, I’ll get you my little dry-erase board.” Rachel jumped up again and fetched the small 12”x18” dry-erase board she’d used to communicate when she’d been the one who couldn’t talk, and brought it back to Quinn on the couch. The blonde girl immediately wrote: _I love you_.

            “Aww, baby…I love you too.” Rachel pressed the ice pack back to Quinn’s forehead, and leaned down to kiss her warm cheek. “Poor little thing, I’m so sorry you’re sick. What a lousy way to end such a hard day for you. _And_ a lousy way to start the holidays. We’ll have to feed you chicken soup tonight instead of latkes.” At Rachel’s words, Quinn’s eyes filled with tears. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Does your throat hurt terribly? Here, drink some tea, it’s my special blend,” Rachel offered, picking up the tea and blowing gently on the surface so it wouldn’t be too hot on Quinn’s sore throat.

            The sniffling girl pushed herself up slightly against the cushions and took a little sip of the tea; then sighed sadly, and pulled the whiteboard back, scribbling silently on it: _That’s not why I’m crying. I had a special surprise for you and now it’s ruined. I learned the Hanukkah blessings and I was going to sing with you tonight. Now I can’t. I really wanted to surprise you. I’m sorry._

            “Oh, Quinn, you did? That’s so sweet…I can’t believe you did that for me. Please don’t cry baby, your health is far more important to me than any holiday. And it’s only the first night, anyway…you might get better in time to sing with us by the end.” Rachel stroked Quinn’s hair, murmuring loving words of reassurance; but Quinn just cried more, until her nose began to run and she curled up coughing and sniffling weakly in Rachel’s lap. Then cupped both hands firmly to her face to cover another stuffy sneeze.

            “God bless you,” Rachel cooed, rubbing Quinn’s back while reaching for the tissues from the coffee table with her free hand, and moving them within easy reach of the sick girl. “Here, honey, blow your nose. And drink some tea, it really will make you feel better. Now _I’m_ going to get a surprise for _you_.” Rachel wormed off the couch and scampered upstairs, returning with a large, festively wrapped package which she deposited in Quinn’s lap.

             “This was going to be your Hanukkah present for tonight,” Rachel said brightly, curling up beside her girlfriend on the couch, “But it just got upgraded to a get-well-soon present. Don’t worry, you’ll still get other Hanukkah presents and Christmas presents too; but I think this one will really cheer you up right now.” Quinn sat up and rubbed her red eyes, giving her girlfriend a weary, half-hearted smile as she began to unwrap her present. Even in the midst of her own misery, Quinn could see how much it was hurting Rachel that she couldn’t be cheered up, and she felt horribly guilty for it. But when the wrapping paper fell away and the fluffy stuffed animal inside was revealed, she smiled for real, and threw her arms around her girlfriend’s neck.

             Rachel laughed, hugging Quinn back tightly. “You like him, right? I looked absolutely _everywhere_ for him.” The blonde girl nodded, hugging the stuffed animal tightly against her side and writing on her board: _You found Appa!!!! I can’t believe it, I love him, thank you baby!!!_

             The little starlet beamed. Appa, the six-legged flying bison from Avatar, was Quinn’s favorite friendly monster, and it had not escaped the dark-haired girl’s attention that whenever the show came on, Quinn talked about how cuddly he looked and how awesome it would be to have him as a pet.

             “You’re welcome,” Rachel beamed, kissing Quinn on the cheek. “I’m certain he’ll make a superior cuddle-buddy while you’re stuck in bed. Now for God’s sake, drink your tea before it gets cold. You’re on a very strict schedule of herbs, vitamins and antibiotics starting right now.” Quinn sighed wearily, but picked up the tea and began to drink it, still hugging the fluffy monster to her side.

              The blonde girl slept through the rest of the afternoon, waking to the sound of the garage door when Rachel’s dads arrived home at dinnertime. Rachel had obviously called them both at work, because Michael had a bag from the drug store, holding a package of antibiotics, the same ones that had worked on Rachel when she’d had tonsillitis; plus a bag of sore throat drops, a jar of Vicks vapo-rub, and several boxes of Kleenex with extra-moisturizing lotion. Jacob came in toting a bag from Whole Foods, including a large container of fresh chicken soup, a half-gallon of organic orange juice, and several boxes of different flavored popsicles.

              Quinn, still half-asleep, just smiled shyly at the vast assortment of get-better gifts the Berrys were showering down on her—in her own family, there was no fussing over sickness. Her father had always insisted that _Fabrays don’t complain_ , and anyone who got sick in their family was expected to just tough it out. Her mom would usually slip her some medicine when he wasn’t looking, of course; but there were no kisses, no hot soup or tea, and certainly no cuddles or affection like she was getting now. If she hadn’t already been through so much with the Berrys, it would have been a little overwhelming. 

              After they’d medicated Quinn within an inch of her life, the menorah was lit and the Hanukkah blessings were sung (Rachel kept her arm around her girlfriend the whole time, trying to make her feel better about not being able to sing along). Then came presents; from Jacob and Michael, a $25 iTunes gift card each for Quinn and Rachel (since they celebrated both Christmas _and_ Hanukkah, the family tradition was to save “big gifts” for under the tree, using Hanukkah as a slow and steady build-up period of excitement). Then Rachel gave Quinn her second present of the day, a matching set of soft, hand-knitted red gloves, a scarf and a hat to match her Cheerios uniform; and Quinn gave Rachel a _חי Maintenance_ t-shirt and a mix-CD of all her favorite holiday music.

             Rachel’s dads laughed uproariously at the t-shirt, and Michael patted the blonde girl on the back and declared that she was well on her way to being an honorary Jew, just like him. Quinn beamed, woozy from all the drugs coursing through her system, and hugged them all sleepily.

             After the Hanukkah presents were unwrapped, they all retired to the couch to watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Quinn fell asleep roughly five minutes into the movie, cuddling her stuffed Appa with her head in Rachel’s lap. She didn’t even stir when Michael scooped her up and carried her upstairs to bed. Before joining her, Rachel made sure the humidifier was plugged in and filled with fresh water, and the Tylenol, Kleenex and a bottle of vitamin water were all within easy reach. Then she slipped in behind her feverish girlfriend and fell asleep cuddling her, along with the fluffy stuffed monster still curled in her arms.


End file.
